


The Lion and the Snake

by Paperturtledove



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Alcohol, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angels, Biblical Reinterpretation, Bruno commits tax fraud, Child Abuse, Demons, Diavolo is literally Satan, Domestic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Good Omens AU, Historical References, Honestly more of a medium burn, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Bruno Buccellati, Slight liberties with history, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Trans Giorno Giovanna, Various characters are angels demons or humans, Various historical time periods, i mean that's what the book is so, no beta we die like zeppelis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paperturtledove/pseuds/Paperturtledove
Summary: It's the end times. Both heaven and hell have been waiting for this day, every angel and demon ready to fulfill their duty. But Bruno and Leone happen to like Earth, and as time goes on, they only gain more things to protect, perhaps even including each other.A Good Omens AU for these trying times.
Relationships: Leone Abbacchio/Bruno Buccellati
Comments: 68
Kudos: 157





	1. Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by [this fanart here](https://ofpaintedflowers.tumblr.com/post/178979760955/commedia-dellarte-au-and-good-omens-au)

They say the beginning was a process, a seven-day process in fact. Later, when humans began to discover their world, they said it was a sudden flash, a bang. His first children, the angels, had only come after the bare bones of the world had been laid. Sure, they were the ones who hung stars and shaped planets with their hands, but they were only the painters. The canvas was already there. Truthfully, no one could tell you what really happened. Except God, but even then, He’s said to be quite forgetful.

Long has the question been asked  _ Are we here for a reason? Is there some great cosmic plan, or is Fate truly altered by choice?  _ This is not a new question. Humans like to think they were the first in many things. Above any other sort of creature when it came to their intelligence and creativity. That they were the first and only ones who could truly ponder the nature of the world. That is simply not true. 

In fact, one of the first to ask these questions was one of God’s own painters. An angel, standing at the top of a stone wall. On one side a luscious garden, buzzing with the voices of insects and birds, and on the other, a dry, barren, desert. A breeze from the desert side ruffled the angel’s silver cropped hair, making white robes flutter. He shuddered, not used to the physical sensations of a mortal body. There were dark clouds drifting toward where he stood. He looked out to see two distant figures walking away from the garden. From this distance, it looked as if one of them was holding a brand of fire.

“Watching the exiles, hm?” The angel startled. A raspy voice spoke through the air. After looking around and seeing nothing, he looked down and saw the one who spoke. A scaly little creature, speckled black and white with little golden eyes. A being the angel had only ever heard about up until now. A snake. “Did you feel bad for His failed experiment?”

He collected himself, straightening his back with an air of authority. He would let no slippery tongued devil get the better of him. He’d been trusted with guarding this gate. “I have no clue what you mean, demon. I’d run along if I were you. Staying here after the stunt you pulled will get you caught in no time”. The snake gave another hissy laugh.

“Well, haven’t I already been caught, then? Besides, I’ve accomplished what I was sent here to do”. The snake turned his head to stare out at the desert, finding the two figures in the distance. There was now a third silhouette that they held up the fiery blade against. A lion, a beautiful creature, the angel lamented as the flames sliced through it. He had chosen to give it up in the first place, so he supposed he couldn’t complain. 

Next to him, the snake had coiled his body, slowly elongating his body. As he stretched, so did his form. Like shedding scales, it slowly morphed into a figure of about his height. The demon stretched his wings out as he moved his arms around in his new body. “My, how chilly. You’d think He’d give His favorite creations some protection from the elements, hm?” The demon wore a simple black robe, similar to his own, and wavy black hair that came to his shoulders. He couldn’t be more obvious about his nature if he stuck out a forked tongue and hissed. “I suppose you took pity on them, seeing as your sword isn’t here”.

The angel stiffened. “Look here, demon,” He stood up taller and glared right into yellow eyes. “You must not tell anyone of this, or I will see to your destruction myself”. The other looked a bit surprised at the display of aggression. 

“No need to go there. Look, if you don’t tell on me, I won’t tell on you. Besides, do you think your kind would believe me over you?” He shuddered again as a strong gust blew in. “He really didn’t give them any protection, did He? Only pitiful leaves.” He had a disapproving loom on his face. The angel gave a raised eyebrow.

“Since when do you care? You’re the one who tricked them!” 

“Tricked them? Oh please, they were both curious about the fruit already. If God didn’t want His creations to be self aware, perhaps he shouldn’t have put the damn thing in the one place they lived. They can think for themselves now. I did them a favor.” 

The angel bristled. “It was a test! They were meant to be curious. And they failed because of you!” He pointed to the sky. “And now they’re out there in that weather, and she’s already pregnant. He would’ve wanted me to help them.”

“Oh really? Is that why you asked me to not tell anyone you gave them your sword?” He was silent.

“God… rarely talks to us directly anymore. Not since you all fell.”

The demon shrugged. “A god who tosses his creations out into the world and doesn’t give them any aid? Doesn’t sound very benevolent to me”. The angel growled.

“You shut your lying mouth. Don’t try to tempt me.” The demon rolled his eyes, but stopped pushing the matter. “He has assigned us to watch over them and their descendents. They will not be without aid.”

They settled into awkward silence. The angel stubbornly kept his eyes ahead to watch the storm. The demon snuck a look at him. He pondered for a few moments, then asked; “So, what should I call you”. The angel was surprised enough to look at him.

“What? Why’s it of any importance to you?”

“It’s my job to tempt humanity, and given your role in these events -” he gestured at the couple with the sword “- I’m guessing you’re not going to take a backseat in aiding them. So if we’re going to see a lot of each other, I need something to call you.” The heavenly agent remained stoic. “Well fine, I’ll go first. You can call me Bruno. I rather like the ring of it.” The angel made no move to acknowledge him. “You know, you are very standoffish for an angel.” The newly named Bruno observed. “If you don’t give me anything to call you, I guess I’ll have to make up one myself.”

He looked at the corpse of the beast the sinful couple had slain. A once glorious lion, a creation even he had to admit God had done good work on. Bruno glanced back at the angel. God had done a pretty good job with this one too, he thought as he observed his jawline. “How about Leone?”

“...Leone? The holy word for lion? Is that some kind of sick joke?” The angel snarled like his new namesake. 

“You remind me of one. And you  _ are _ holy, aren’t you?” Bruno folded his arms in satisfaction at his idea. “Your sword even killed one! It’s perfect for you.” The angel-now Leone- grunted. 

“Whatever you say. We won’t see each other again if I can help.” Bruno felt a tad disappointed. He found the angel intriguing. God’s agents were always such sticklers for the rules, but this one was different, he felt. But not too disappointed, as he still felt he’d be seeing a lot of Leone.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cold drop hitting his head. Bruno and Leone looked up. Rain. The earth’s very first rain. There was no need for it in Eden, where everything grew with God’s blessing. But in the desert, rain was a blessing. It was also cold and a nuisance. Bruno looked over to see his new angel acquaintance shivering. He probably was even less used to the cold of a mortal body than Bruno was, always basking in God’s rays. He felt a pang of sympathy, and gingerly lifted a dark wing to block the rain. Leone gave him a puzzled glance.

“Why?” he asked. Bruno just smiled.

“Couldn’t just leave a new friend out to dry.” Leone sighed in reluctance, but he apparently wasn’t headstrong enough to refuse. 

“We are not friends, demon.” He crossed his arms and huffed in indignance.

“Whatever you say, Leone.”

They stood in silence at the edge of the Garden of Eden, watching the first humans flee with an angel’s sword, in the middle of earth’s first rain. Two mortal enemies, simply standing without conflict, watching the beginning of a great plan. 


	2. A Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruno and Leone have the world's worst baby shower and get very drunk.

Once again, it was raining. A light drizzle that accompanied a heavy fog. Perfect weather for unseen forces to plan in.

Nearly six thousand years since the first one, and it’s never changed, thought Bruno, who was currently taking long hurried strides down the sidewalk. Cold and unpleasant. Yes, as a demon, he specialized in all things unpleasant and irritating. But his job was making those things happen to other people. He prided himself on the little things, the ones that piled up one’s frustration. He had been responsible for, among other things, rush hour traffic, the sudden disappearance of one's keys at crucial times, and the noise chalkboards made when scratched.

He couldn’t help but feel pity for humanity. True, perhaps as the original tempter, he held part of the blame for their current state, but from his point of view, the game was always rigged. God wouldn’t have had the Tree out in the open with a big No Touch sign if He really didn’t want anyone to go near it.

Besides, the whole point of humanity was their free will, or at least the illusion of it. Even if they would all meet the same fate, how they got there and where their soul went was entirely up to them. Or it would be, if not for the influence of angels and demons, trying to corrupt and salvage souls through divine manipulation. Bruno saw himself as a necessary evil. He recalled telling this to Leone one night, back in the first century at some Roman convivium while he was slightly tipsy.

“All I’m sayin’, is there’s no point in Heaven without Hell, if people _couldn’t_ be bad, then what’s the point?” Leone sputtered at this. Ironically enough, he was much better at holding his wine than the demon next to him.

“Hell only exists because you and your… possy chose to act the way you did! What you’re saying seems to imply God planned this!” Bruno shrugged and slouched over.

“Why not? He planned everything else, according to you. Or maybe he just… forgot?” Leone glared like if he looked hard enough, Bruno would evaporate into hellfire.

He trailed out of the memory as he arrived in front of a dark gray building, wedged in between several small establishments, including a family run seafood place, a shady bar, and a flower shop. Across the sign of the place, in plain brown letters, it read _Leone Abbacchio Legal Investigations, Inc_.

Abbacchio, he snorted. Lamb’s meat? Like the lamb of God? A bit on the nose, if you asked him. The sign said closed, but Bruno easily unlocked the door with a flick of the wrist and walked in.

The inside was not very remarkable. Bare walls, concrete floor with no tiles or wood, the most notable thing about it was that there was so little, including light. A candle burned on the desk of a man currently buried in a book. “We’re closed!” a gruff voice shouted.

“Harsh as ever, _Abbacchio_.” Bruno said, stepping up to the desk. Snapping his face up from the book he’d been buried in, he was greeted by a sharp face framed by long silver hair. Leone had grown it out in the six thousand years they’d known each other. Bruno thought this fitted him well, but he’d never say this out loud, as he pictured the angel just scowling and changing it to avoid having approval from a _demon_ of all things.

Leone groaned. “What are you doing here? And did you unlock my door?!”

“I locked it after I came in. I’m not a savage.” said Bruno. “Lovely place you’ve got here. Really attracting customers with the lack of... anything really.”

“That’s the point.” replied Leone. “I’m just here to have a place to stay and blend in with humans. But that doesn’t mean I want to interact with them any more than I have to.”

“You’re doing a great job blending in then, sitting here not doing any work. Is this place ever even open?”

“It is!” insisted Leone. “But I rarely get customers. When I do, I just make them very disturbed until they leave. Not blinking makes humans very uncomfortable. But it does sting after a while. I guess your snake eyes are better for that than mine.”

Both of them held a passable mortal appearance. Bruno didn’t look like what you’d think a demon looked like. No horns or pointy tail, the only dark thing about him was his hair. In fact, he preferred brown or even white to wearing black. It just didn’t suit him, he figured. He currently donned a plaid brown three piece suit, slightly worn. It gave him an air of approachability while still seeming authoritative. On the other hand, Leone was wearing a long dark trench coat, the kind you’d see in old noir films.

Leone sat back. “So why are you here? And don’t say you’re just visiting.”

“But what if that is my intention?” said Bruno. Leone narrowed his eyes. “Fine, that’s not the _only_ reason. I recently got a very interesting mission, and I wanted to see if you knew anything about it.” The angel lifted an eyebrow, slightly curious.

“You’re sharing this with me? Your sworn enemy?”

Bruno chuckled. “‘Mortal enemy’ might be going a bit far. Mortal enemies would probably be at each other's throats at every given opportunity. Not talking over drinks. Besides, this may be affecting Heaven as well.” He scanned the room. “Speaking of drinks, do you have any?” He clapped his hands and, in a blink a big comfy chair appeared across from Leone’s desk. The angel reached under the desk, shuffling around a bit before producing a bottle and two glasses.

“Chardonnay? That’s a bit fancy for a casual meet up.” Leone didn’t respond as he poured them each a drink.

“It’s what I have. Take it or leave it.” Bruno graciously took the glass. He wasn’t turning down good wine. Depending how this went, he might really need it. “So, what is this news?” Bruno took a deep breath and a long sip of alcohol.

“Well, I guess it started last Monday. Awful day, Monday. One of my greatest ideas-”

“Just get on with it!” snapped Leone.

“Oh fine, it was Monday and I was going about business as usual, when I got a radio transmission from Hell”

“And? What about it?”

“Yes. It was nothing out of the ordinary, as ordinary as a radio being hijacked by a demon is. The thing is, I usually don’t get orders directly from Satan.”

That made Leone stop drinking and inhale sharply at the name. The mention of the unholy presence sent a shiver up his holy spine. “And?”

Bruno looked around again, as if he expected someone to be listening in. “He asked me to look for a baby.”

“What?”

“You heard me! A baby!” He took a long sip. “When I asked what I was looking for, he just said I’ll know when I see it.” Leone’s fingers grew tighter around his glass.

“Don’t tell me this is what I think it is.” He was going to need a lot of wine for this.

Bruno gave a single nod. “He sounded very pleased too. Then when I saw Risotto later that week, he was going on about ‘the end times’. I’m fairly sure he’s referring to his son.”

Leone looked grim. “The Antichrist.”

Just by hearing it, Bruno felt like a million gazes snapped to observe them. “Don’t say it out loud like that!” He held up a hand. “Nothing’s for sure yet-”

He was interrupted by a _ding!_ from the back room, like the clear sound of a bell. Leone stood up, stone faced. “That’s for me.” He left the room. A few moments later he angrily strode back in, this time with a white letter in hand. Tearing off the seal as he sat down, he scanned the contents of the letter. Then he threw it to the ground, grabbed the bottle, and took a swig.

“Whoa there,” Bruno tried to grab the bottle out of his hands, to no avail. “Don’t ruin the perfectly good - and _expensive_ \- champagne with your germs!” Leone stopped to give him an empty look. Bruno wasn’t aware if they technically even had germs. He tried to change the subject. “What was in the letter? I told you mine, so it’s a trade off.” He knew Leone hated feeling like he was in debt. As an angel, he was meant to be a beacon of compassion ( _meant_ to be), so feeling he was only doing someone a solid because they’d helped him was a blow to not just his pride, but went against his very nature. Demons were the ones who didn’t do things for free.

Leone begrudgingly put down the bottle and picked up the letter again. “Orders for me to start observing Bruno Buccellati, the demon assigned to look after the Antichrist.” Bruno sat back.

“Well,” he said. “It’s a good thing you brought out the alcohol, huh?”

* * *

An hour later, a demon and an angel were sitting in chairs pushed against an empty wall, a bottle between them, both very drunk.

“Oh my _Satan_ , don’t you **EVER** criticize my choice of name again, fuckin’ Bruno Sugar Cookie.” Leone had been ranting for the better part of the hour. He preferred to stay quiet when drunk, because as Bruno had found after thousands of years, once he got going on a tangent, he wouldn’t stop. “Not like it matters. Hey, HEY! You rememberrrr…” he trailed off, crinkling his forehead. “Oh yeah. That little Italian place. I’d go there and so would you but we tried to avoid each other so we planned out which times we were allowed to go and the waiters knew us an’- and. They had such good seafood. Gone, Bruno.”

“I know.”

“An’ animals too! Granted, I won’t miss some. Mosquitoes, rats, frogs, that’s fine. But dogs Bruno! Reimi’s gonna be heartbroken, guidin’ all those dog souls to heaven. She’s already depressed enough by all the strays.”

“Yeah, Sad that.”

“All our work, tryin’ to save souls, it’ll be over. They say that Heaven’ll lift up all the good souls when Armageddon comes, but I’ve heard no such thing.” He slumped back. “Is that all I can do? Is it over?”

Bruno was mostly quiet, deep in thought. The End Times. Yes he’d known it was coming, he’d always known. It just… seemed so soon. This was what his job, what everything had led up to. He had tempted and tricked, all for the sake of helping them win their second shot at Heaven. Yet he didn’t feel triumph of excitement at the prospect. It surprised him, not only because he was a demon, but because things made by humans often came and went, easily destroyable, just like humans themselves. He’d thought he would be more used to change by now. As if there had been much consistency to begin with. Hell was ever changing, halls of chaos shifting to fit with the times, someone making a ruckus, some unfortunate slimeball losing a limb to a hellhound.

It wasn’t really all that different when he thought about it. The same smell, the same suffering, the same screaming souls if you went down in the pits, the same voices barking orders. Boring. Yes, boring. That’s what it was.

“The child is still an infant.”

Leone looked up from having his existential crisis. “Wha?”

“His father, he used to be an angel, right?” He looked over. Leone didn’t even look uncomfortable at the reminder of sharing something with his natural enemy. “It’s genetics. Monkeys who have their tails cut off don’t have children with stubby tails”

“So what you’re saying is...”

“There’s a possibility the child won’t be naturally evil. Like all children are.”

The drunk angel snorted. “Are you saying the Devil’s son is gonna end up being an angelic being or some ironic shit?” For all his crudeness, Leone was still a holy being. He only swore when drunk. He took another deep drink. Bruno had done a few demonic miracles to keep the wine flowing. Normally he would cut off the angel, but he felt like he also needed this.

“No, not exactly.” said Bruno. “Like he’ll be a… a blank slate almost.” His face brightened as the idea came to him. “You and I could look after him!” Leone spat out his drink.

“What.”

“Think about it! If we both had a hand in the child’s upbringing, trying to influence him towards good or evil, we’d still be doing our jobs, right?” Leone’s confusion began to be replaced by a thoughtful expression before turning sour again.

“I am horrible with children, you know this. It’ll never work.”

“You’re horrible with people, now just listen,” he cut off Leone’s protests.”All you have to do is what you’ve always done; foil my plans. You don’t have to necessarily be nurturing to do that. Just show him how easy it is to care about other things. If you can do it, I’m sure you can teach them.”

Leone placed down the bottle. “Ugh, I’ve had enough of this. I need to be sober to think about this.” He looked to be deeply concentrating, letting out a long “hnnnnnng”. The bottle began to fill back up as Leone expelled the alcohol from his system. Bruno did the same. Unfortunately, since Bruno had been summoning more, more wine than the bottle could hold filled it and spilled over. Leone looked at it like he couldn’t be bothered. “At least there’s no carpets to clean.” he grumbled, then turned to Bruno.

“If I’m going to agree to this, I’ll have to see the brat first. Do we have any clues as to where he is?” Bruno noted Leone said “we”. A flicker of something- Pride maybe? - felt warm in his chest.

“I did feel a weird energy in Egypt a few months ago. But I ignored it. Weird things always happen there. Now I’m feeling inclined to go to Japan. At first I thought it was simply a craving to try the seafood again, but now I’m thinking… that might be our place.”

“Well then,” said Leone. “What are we waiting for?”

* * *

Several hours later, two figures stood outside of a hospital in Tokyo, Japan. Both of them felt a nervousness looking at the building. Hospitals were places of life and death. Life made, life spared, life lost. As one who was aware of souls, Leone found these places overwhelming. Escorting souls to Heaven wasn’t his job, but he always felt melancholy as they left, and even more so after sensing it go… somewhere other than Above. It meant he had failed.

But the thing he felt from the hospital wasn’t any of the usual gloom, but something… unnatural. Like something that wasn’t meant to exist.

Bruno started to walk towards the entrance, snapping Leone out of his thoughts as he followed. Even though it was late, a decently sized amount of people lingered in the waiting room. They got some looks as two foreigners walking into a hospital so late. A tired receptionist greeted them both with a polite bow. “Hello sirs, what can I help you with today?” she asked in Japanese.

Bruno responded likewise. Human language held no distinction for the divine. Speaking one was like tapping into a radio frequency, or, although it hadn’t been invented yet, Wifi. “We understand there was a birth here recently. We’re acquainted with the family and would like to pay them a visit.”

The receptionist nodded and reached for some files behind her. “Could you tell me the family name of the patient and your relation to them?” Bruno stiffened next to him. They hadn’t thought about that. Rare was the need for either of them to visit a hospital, so their knowledge of hospital procedures was… lacking. Bruno clapped his hands and the receptionist’s eyes grew dull in a trance.

“Could you give us all the recent birth files, please?” He spoke quietly so no one would become suspicious.

“Yes” the receptionist intoned blankly. She robotically held over a few folders.

“Hey!” hissed Leone. “You can’t just mess with a human like that!”

Bruno gave him a look. “You say to a demon. Besides, she won’t remember any of this. Completely harmless deed here.” He flipped through the folders, taking note of the room numbers of all the women who’d recently given birth. Thankfully there weren’t many. This was a small hospital, not necessarily in a bad area of the city but definitely in a less populated one. That or it was just a slow night for babies. Babies were the time you could tell a lot about someone’s temperament, decided Leone. Some babies liked to take their sweet time being born, while others slid right out. Of course, that didn’t stop most from being little abominations once they were born.

Bruno clapped again and the receptionist snapped out of it, though she didn’t seem to notice them now. She looked down confused at what the files she held were doing there, then shrugged and went back to work.

They walked through the halls, checking the letters and numbers of each hall and room. The files had provided them with potential candidates, but they could still feel the unnatural presence. Leone wasn’t sure about the demon, but he was half checking doors and half letting himself be drawn towards it.

Eventually, their search led them to room C12. A shudder went down Leone’s spine. On the other side of this door, was the Harbinger of Destruction, Prince of Darkness, Spawn of Satan, the Adversary, yada yada. If you asked him what he thought of the many names given to biblical figures, he’d scoff. One name was enough, thank you. He’d only allowed the name he had now because Bruno had insisted, and he needed a human name in his line of work. He couldn’t very well speak his true name to just anyone, and he didn’t care for any of the names humans had ever given him.

“Excuse me, please move aside sir.” He nearly jumped as behind him, there was a tired looking nurse. In her arms she held a blue bundle. Leone froze. “I cannot let you in unless you are family or friends of Ms. Shiobana. Now please move.” He snapped out of it and shuffled aside with Bruno. As the door opened they could see a lady lying on the bed, passed out from exhaustion. The nurse shook her and tried to hand the baby over. Ms. Shiobana didn’t look very happy to be woken up, and even less so to see the baby. He couldn’t hear their exact exchange, but Leone could tell the nurse was getting frustrated. Finally, Shiobana reluctantly took the baby and held it to her chest. The nurse left the room, presumably to fetch the birth certificate and whatever else you needed for a baby.

“Excuse me ma’am,” approached Bruno as she came out. “Where’s the father of the child?” The nurse frowned, like Bruno had just made a rude comment.

“One hasn’t been registered. I would recommend not making personal inquiries about strangers unless you have some business here.”

“We do.” Bruno insisted. “We’re… acquainted with the father and we’d like to discuss the matter of him with Ms. Shiobana.” Bruno was acquainted with him, technically.

The nurse sighed and opened the door again. “Ms Shiobana! Two men here claim to know the father. Do you know them?”

She glared at the door, not welcoming the interruption. “No, I’ve never seen either of these men in my life.” She looked fairly young, early twenty-something. Leone assumed she was just some unfortunate soul who’d gone out, had a few too many drinks and forgot to use protection. That was probably some degree of true, given her age and the way she almost seemed to resent the baby. He’d normally feel sympathy, but this was much more serious than a careless one night stand and he was too tired for that.

Bruno stepped forward, ready to persuade them if necessary. “Please miss, we’re here to discuss with you the matter of child support from the baby’s father.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Really?” she muttered sarcastically. ”How sweet. He didn’t seem like the type. How did he find me anyway?”

Leone had mostly stayed silent. He’d figured Bruno was better at lying their way out of this situation, but he tried to contribute. “He’d like to remain anonymous, as he has no desire to complicate things. But he does wish to pay for whatever expense you find yourself unable to provide for your son.” This would let them have an easy excuse to observe the child in a safe space. Where they got the money would be a question for later.

She looked confused. “Son? I thought I gave birth to a girl?” This perplexed Leone. In almost every bible verse or prediction, there’d been some reference to the Antichrist as male. Plus the presence had definitely felt male to him. Taking a look at Bruno, while he held a poker face, confusion passed over it as well.

The Adversary, Prince of Darkness, Harbinger of Destruction, and Spawn of Satan began to cry, drawing the mothers attention. “Ugh, this isn't the best time. Do you have a card or something?”

“We do indeed.” said Bruno smoothly. He produced a business card from his suit pocket. Leone knew it hadn’t been there a moment ago. She took it and looked it over as she nursed the baby. One side was Italian, and one Japanese. As she read the number on the card aloud, Leone realized that was _his_ number. He couldn’t afford to show it now, but Bruno was in for it when they left.

Shiobana begrudgingly kept the card. “Fine, I’ll call later. Now can you please all leave? I have the _worst_ headache.” The baby cried harder. That wouldn’t help. Leone didn’t like babies, but he was beginning to dislike this one especially. He supposed most babies weren’t going to grow up to end the world though.

The nurse shooed them out, so they saw no reason to stay.

“What was that?” spat Leone as they left the hospital.

“”What was what?”

“My number was on that card!”

Bruno just shrugged. “You’re the only one of us who’s got one, plus I had to whip up that thing on the spot. We were just at your place, so...”

The angel grumbled, but he couldn’t say much to that. The babies’ cries still lingered in his ears. He was not looking forward to teaching that little shit anything about good behavior or not bringing about the Armageddon.

* * *

A few months later, there was a great storm.

Neither angel nor demon thought much of it. Storms happened, and they were often found frequenting Japan nowadays. The storm happened in Italy. And while they both sensed a prick of _something_ in Italy, it didn’t seem to matter. Italy was a place where a lot of things happened, and divine business was a common one.

In hindsight, it seemed odd that the Antichrist would be born in Japan. Perhaps it didn’t matter where the child was born, or perhaps Down Below figured a less Christian nation would attract less attention from Above. The thing is, if people didn’t believe in God, they probably didn’t believe in the Devil either. Japan had barely any interaction with Christianity outside of the last one hundred years, and nowadays most of it was through pop culture. There were some believers, but few.

In hindsight, maybe Bruno should’ve considered the aura they felt in the hospital felt nothing like Satan’s, or even a demon’s. Perhaps they had no way of knowing.

Approximately 9900 kilometers away, a woman named Donatella Una was giving birth. No identifiable father, as the name she’d given them doctors turned up nothing. An alias. Nonetheless, though she was young and the father was nowhere in sight, having a child didn’t scare her or seem like a burden. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and her parents had supported her throughout the pregnancy. Also, something about it felt… fated. A weird thing to feel about an unplanned pregnancy from a fling where the father went missing, but she could think of no other way to describe it.

She smiled down at her baby. She made a few gurgling noises, but was mostly quiet, like crying was too undignified for her. She had already thought of a name. Trish. It meant noble, and it seemed to fit.

Donatella had another weird notion. She couldn’t help but feel that the father, wherever he was, was proud of the baby. Proud of her and what she would become.

She began to sing softly as the newborn fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Abbacchio definitely had like, 10 bottles worth of champagne
> 
> 2\. Just to clarify, Giorno is going to be trans here. He's not the Antichrist but there is something up with him.
> 
> 3\. The rating was upped due to Abbacchio's potty mouth and the alcohol.
> 
> Also, comments help a lot. Getting feedback motivates me to do better since I'm currently stuck inside. I hope y'all are doing well and enjoyed this chapter.


	3. The Father, The Son, and the Arguably Competent Babysitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fallen angel gets an unexpected visitor in Egypt. A child gets some new role models of questionable quality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning in this chapter for child abuse and misgendering. It's not horribly graphic or anything, but it should be mentioned.

Shortly before the Beginning, there was a great war.

Much as He tried, giving free will to your children always comes with a possibility of rebellion. Some say this was the moment sin was born, but the truth is, it was always destined to exist. With a heavy heart, He watched his children fight until he could take it no longer, swiftly striking those who chose to fall down.

The difference between angels and humans was simply that angels had a job to do. Moral quandaries and existential crises were for those with limited time and no purpose. The ones who ran the world did not have that luxury.

He had not cared. He was much grander, much more important and eternal than those little bugs. He saw no reason he should not use God’s gifts as he wished. They were gifts, after all, and taking it back would be rude.

The Devil, Satan, Lucifer, by many names they called Hell’s ruler. Truly, it was insulting that anyone would confuse him with such a wretched and ugly thing.

He’d been a striking golden figure, hard to look at and even harder to look away from. When he spoke the world stopped to listen. Apparently too many listened, because when he turned his eyes up to Him and chose to spat at his feet, nearly half of Heaven followed. Sometimes people still stopped in his invisible presence, though it only applied to those in his vicinity now. Mortals couldn’t see him if he didn’t want them to, but he made sure they felt him.

Egypt was a fine place to take up residence. Lots of old, ancient ruins whispering of a civilization once great and long gone. Now empty temples and tombs, just waiting for him to make them his palaces. A place where His people had undergone great suffering under the Pharaoh. Even now, there was plenty of negativity to go around. The locals had long since gotten used to the heat, the thirst, the waking up with sand in unusual places, but the bitterness towards it all still remained, even if buried under resilience. He thrived in it.

It didn’t matter to him that humanity had all but forgotten him, or that he’d been mistaken and fused together in stories with that little worm. It didn’t matter, because very soon that was going to change.

And the start of that change came when a pathetic shadow began to creep its way down his halls. He was lounging on his throne, pretending he was unaware of who was there. But he knew. Who could ever forget that backstabbing coward? No matter how he tried to hide his face or slip into another vessel, the stench of his soul remained the same.

Finally it seemed that he found his throne room. On either side of him, his servants fell into aggressive stances at seeing that shadow. He held up a hand. “No.” A lady with white hair and cat-like eyes stared at the shade like she wanted to lunge at it, but she refrained.

It began to rise and form a figure. It was the figure of a tall man, enveloped by darkness. The only thing that was visible were two green eyes, narrowed with malice.

“Ah, speak of the Devil! What brings you here to my humble abode?” He gestured widely, emphasizing the spacious room. Once an abandoned temple in the city of Cairo, he’d renovated it into his own personal mansion. It had taken some time due to him and his servants being unable to perform any miracles from Above or Down Below, but a few contractors later, and it was serviceable. It amazed him what shady jobs worms would take for the right price. Even when several of them had been - let’s just say insufficient, and had disappeared mysteriously, before a new job post went out.

It pleased him even more, being able to show it off like this. He didn’t get many visitors.

“Well, old friend? What may I call you this time? Is ‘cowardly roach’ fine by you?” The green eyes of the figure narrowed, but he didn’t respond to the provocation. He was much too careful for that.

He opened his mouth to speak. And what came out was so distorted that one could assume it was a snake’s hiss. “You may call me Diavolo. I have found myself frequenting Italy as of late, and their name for me seemed… to fit, somehow.” The sound echoed around the halls, which made the Devil sound like he was speaking from everywhere. He remained unfazed and thoroughly unimpressed.

“I have come to inform you that the End Times are soon upon us. And offer for the final time for you to rejoin the armies of Hell for the coming storm.” He scoffed at Diavolo’s words.

“Please, you think I’d ever bow to you? If you weren’t such a sniveling coward you’d have gotten rid of me by now, instead of hiding in shadows like a pathetic child.” He crossed his legs and began to file sharp nails, looking uninterested. Irritation flashed through Diavolo’s eyes.

“If you do not take a side, you will be destroyed with everything else. And He certainly isn’t going to offer you another chance!” At this, he put down the filer, slowly stood up and gave the Devil his full attention.

“Let me make one thing clear.” He stood. “You seem to forget. I rejected Heaven and when you turned on me, I rejected your notion of Hell. I am stronger than you, and you clearly know this. Otherwise you might feel overconfident enough to show up in person.”

In the blink of an eye, he went from standing at his throne to right in front of the Devil’s shadowy puppet, a hand impaling it. It went right through, confirming his suspicion. The wispy bits of Diavolo retreated back a good length from him, startled and hissing like a cornered animal. He let out a low, satisfied laugh.

“If it wasn’t obvious enough by now, that’s a no.” Diavolo slightly regained his composure, trying not to look like a fool.

“That disappoints me greatly. You always refused to live in the flames. Now, you will burn in them.” He remained still, face betraying no sign of how he wanted to laugh at this. He had no intention of being consumed by anything. And although he had never lowered himself to the level of a demon, he had seen Hell enough to know that no demons actually lived in fire. That was reserved for sinners. Hell was not nearly that interesting.

“Nevertheless, that is not my only business with you.” said Diavolo.

“Oh?” Perhaps he was not so foolish as to make him an offer he’d refused for millennia.  
“Yes, concerning my spawn.”

“Your spawn? Oh, you mean that whole Antichrist business. Frankly, I couldn’t care less what you get up to in your bed-”

“Not that!” he snapped. He was surprisingly touchy about the subject for being the Devil. Perhaps he had some qualms about intercourse with humans. While humans were weak and short lived, having nowhere to be but Earth for the past six thousand years had made him appreciate what they contributed, even if it was tiny and superficial things in the form of food, technology, or sex. Despite starting a war over them, most residents of Heaven and Hell didn’t seem to really understand humanity. Angels and demons were supposed to want what God wanted or didn’t want. Humans cared so much about the smallest things, things that held little to no objective value. And they chose to. Perhaps that was what God meant when He modeled humanity off of Him. No one understood what God truly wanted or why. In many ways, the same could be said about humans.

But clearly Diavolo didn’t share that opinion. He only cared where human souls were going, not why. “It has been reported that demons have found my child. But, I have sensed a presence in addition, one that felt like you.” Out of the shadows, his lips emerged in a snarl. “Care to explain?”

He put a finger on his chin like he was pretending to think. “Hmmm, not a clue! Are you sure you didn’t have a little extra _fun_ and-”

“Silence!” This time, his form flared up to be a bit taller and pointier than before. Immediately at his side were two servants. Vanilla Ice, a man with long flowing hair, and Mariah, whose narrowed slit-eyes were like a cat’s. They took defensive stances, ready to attack.

“Calm yourself.” He stepped between them.

“But my Lord!” Vanilla Ice protested. He gave him a look that silenced his words. They drew back and knelt. “Apologies, my Lord.” He waved them away and turned to Diavolo.

“Apologies for that outburst. You were saying?”

“The second child” he growled.

“Ah, yes. Sorry to say I know nothing about it. Perhaps someone trying to throw your lot off. Someone from Above, perhaps?” Diavolo continued to watch him unblinking. He clearly wasn’t convinced, but that wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t going to start anything. “Now, do you have any business left, or are you on your way out?”

“Yes. What must I call you?”

“You mustn’t call me anything, if you must. Why the curiosity now?”

Diavolo stilled, a grim look in his eyes. “I feel that this isn’t the last we’re going to be seeing each other.” He paused. And then, let out a loud, raucous laugh. Diavolo seemed confused. “What do you find so funny?”

“”Oh, nothing, just - never mind. I am the one known as **DIO**.”

He looked up to see his reaction. Diavolo sputtered, “God?! You would call yourself God?! How far does your arrogance go?!”

“Not God. **DIO**.”

Diavolo looked uneasy at this. **DIO** didn’t really care if the Devil considered him a legitimate threat or not. It wouldn’t matter. “Now, you were on your way?”

A final pause, Diavolo scanning his face for any hint of something. “Yes.” The shadow began to melt away, making a sound like static crunching.

At his side, Vanilla Ice rose. “Do you think he believed you, my Lord?”

“It doesn’t matter if he did or not.” His servants still look concerned.

“Should we be observing your child more heavily, my Lord?” asked Mariah.

 **DIO** turned around and began to prowl up to his throne. ”It won’t be necessary for now.” He turned his head skyward. “That little visit confirmed my suspicions. There’s been a bit of a mixup, as it were. He has all the protection he needs already.”

* * *

Haruno was a quiet child.

At least that’s what everyone said. It was true he didn’t say much, but he couldn’t tell if they meant it as a good thing or a bad thing. What it seemed to mean was that people would ignore him most of the time, which was fine by Haruno. Having anyone’s attention was usually a bad thing.

But he thought a lot of things he never said. Things like how his stepfather smelled really bad, or why they had moved to this new place - Italy - a year ago, or how despite being left alone so often, sometimes he felt like he was being watched. Or how some people thought he was a girl, when he knew he was a boy.

Most people looking at him thought Haruno was a boy, which he liked. One of the few times he’d asked his mother for anything was to cut his hair shorter. She had, grumbling about how at least she wouldn’t need to brush it.

He spoke rarely, and quietly, but even so he tried to speak lower so people wouldn’t get confused. Not that it mattered, since he only spoke a little Italian. Though his mother was Japanese, she tried to speak it to him so he’d learn it faster. He was trying, but since most of his thoughts never left his mouth, he didn’t practice much. He tried thinking in Italian once. It was okay. He only knew what Japanese he heard from his mother, and he clearly wasn’t going to learn anymore by listening. It surprised him when he didn’t know the word for something in Japanese, but realized he did in Italian.

Even though he stayed quiet on purpose, sometimes it was because he actually didn’t know what to say. When he didn’t do what his stepfather said the first time, he’d get a sharp cuff on the ear, and worse if it took longer, so he really was trying to learn Italian. His mind was just very confused about it.

Two other things he never said, was asking about his father, and about money. He once asked his mother where his father had gone. She’d glared, then said “Doesn’t matter. He’s not here now.” Haruno did not ask again. He knew it would be useless. Doing the same thing over and over again when you knew what would happen is useless. With money, Haruno had a fuzzy understanding of what his parents did. They mentioned jobs, and were out a lot, but he heard them say they didn’t have a lot of it. Something about how his stepfather drank a lot of those bottles, and his mother went to parties. So it surprised him when they said they’d hired someone to look after him.

He didn’t think they would bother, but that wasn’t the most surprising thing. It was that Haruno recognized the man.

He’d been running from a group of boys who had bullied him and threw a few rocks. He hadn’t gone far from his house, he just thought no one would notice if he kept his head down. Now he tried to get home fast, so fast that he tripped over his untied shoelace. He scrambled up, expecting the boys to be behind him, but he ran into someone’s leg. He’d yelped, expecting to be glared at and shoved aside, but the man in front of him did neither of those things. Instead, there was a hand on his shoulder, and a voice asking “Are you okay?”

Haruno looked up. The man had weirdly shaped black hair and blue eyes, though he could’ve sworn he saw them turn yellow, before the man blinked and they were normal again. “You seem startled. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Haruno suddenly remembered the boys chasing him. He turned around, frightened that he would see the group of boys chasing him, but there was nothing. Haruno looked up at the strange man. He looked friendly, but he felt… off. He touched his face where it had been scrapped in his fall, but there was nothing there!

The man - though the way he smiled reminded Haruno more of a snake than a man - patted him on the head. No one had ever done that to Haruno before. He flinched, but the man wasn’t hurting him, so he stood silent. “Do you live around here? Do you want me to take you there?” Haruno shook his head. He wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers, and this man seemed different somehow. Though good or bad he didn’t know.

“I’ll go home.” Haruno croaked out. He didn’t want to stay here anymore. He turned and scurried out of the alley, turning around one last time to make sure the man wasn’t following him. But when he looked, no one was there.

Now, the same man stood at the door with his mother, having a long and complicated conversation. He heard them mention money a few times, and they said his name. Haruno was crouched behind a couch. Was he in trouble? He must be. Maybe the man thought he was rude for leaving so quickly. Finally his mother turned and barked his name. “Haruno! Come here!”

He shuffled out from behind the couch, keeping his eyes down. His mother gestured to the man. “This is Mr. Buccellati. He’s going to be looking after you while we’re out. Don’t make trouble for him.”

The man bent down to meet Haruno’s eyes. He kept looking down. Eye contact was scary. “Please, call me Bruno. You’re Haruno, yes?” He laughed. “He’s very shy, isn’t he?”

His mother raised an eyebrow. “Haruno’s a girl, actually. Despite the looks.” Haruno wanted to protest, but he knew it wouldn’t matter.  
Mr. Buccellati just said “Ah,” but he didn’t look like he believed her. Then he turned back to Haruno again, and this time he was sure his eyes looked like a snake’s. “Don’t worry, Haruno. I don’t bite.”

A week later, Mr. Buccellati took him out for gelato. Haruno had had it a few times, like when his mother and stepfather got married, but it was rare. When he asked what flavour he’d like, he honestly didn’t know. In the end, he decided based on the color, getting strawberry. As they sat at a table with their gelato, Mr. Buccellati tried to ask him questions.

“When are you starting school?” In a year. “How’re your parents?” He said fine. “Do you get an allowance?” He didn’t know what that word meant, so Mr. Buccellati told him it was when parents gave their child money for doing chores. “But if you don’t have one,” he gestured to a man close to them, wearing a nice suit. ”There’s alternatives.”

Haruno didn’t know what he meant at first, but then it hit him. He wanted him to steal! He shook his head rapidly. “I can’t do that, Mr. Buccellati. It’s wrong.” Mr. Buccellati laughed.

“Of course not! I won’t make you do that. But if you want to know, he doesn’t look like he’ll miss a few dollars.” Haruno still refused. If he got caught, he’d get beaten up by the police, and then his stepfather would be mad and beat him up too. But recently at home, his stepfather had been doing it less. He’d once been about to strike Haruno, for what he didn’t remember, but the man stopped and seemed like he was pondering it. Then he turned and left Haruno alone.

“It’s not worth it.” he’d heard him grumble. “That guy disturbs me.” Haruno had been surprised, but he wouldn’t question it.

Meanwhile, Haruno had been seeing another strange figure around. Mr. Buccellati took him outside a lot, saying he was sure the house was small and stuffy and Haruno should get some fresh air. He didn’t mind. He liked being outside, especially when they went somewhere that had grass or trees. What he didn’t like was seeing a sour-faced man wearing dark clothes, even when the sun was out, seemingly pop up around him often. Mr. Buccellati seemed to ignore him, but one day he looked right at the man with silver hair and smirked. “Haruno, should you try out what I taught you?” Despite his refusal, he’d still showed him how to quietly reach into someone’s pocket and take what you wanted, saying it could come in handy.

Normally Haruno would’ve said no, but he felt strangely brave about it. He’d successfully sneaked a shiny coin out of his mother’s purse the other day, and didn’t feel as bad as he thought he would. And while the tall man intimidated him, he felt like Mr. Buccellati would protect him. So he nodded and began to work towards the man, trying not to look suspicious.

He’d gotten almost next to the man, who was miraculously distracted by a book, when a hand suddenly grabbed the back of his coat and he was lifted up. He met the eyes of the bitter man. Like Mr. Buccellati, he felt like a deer caught in headlights looking at them. Weird yellow and violet peered at him. “Hey there!” The man turned to see Mr. Buccellati running toward them. “L- Sir, please put him down. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

The man gave Mr. Buccellati a look. “Really Bruno? Babysitting?” Mr. Buccellati glared at him, like he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to. Haruno was put back down. He stood there, paralyzed with the shock of what had happened.

“I don’t see you doing anything better!” insisted Mr. Buccellati. “Should I have left him to those people?”

“Oh, like you’d care about that. You’re going to attract a lot of attention, doing this. And if you ask me, it’s a bit unfair. Stacked in your favor, you know?”

Mr. Buccellati narrowed his eyes. “Fine, then we’ll narrow the playing field, if that’s what you want.” He turned to Haruno. “Haruno, this is Leone. He didn’t mean to startle you. I was just trying to play a trick on him.” He nodded numbly, unable to say anything. Mr. Leone scowled at both of them. “He’s going to help me look after you.”

Mr. Leone’s eyes widened. “That’s- I didn’t mean-”

“I’m sure he’ll be a _positive influence_ , won’t you, Leone?” Mr. Leone gaped at him, before composing himself to speak.

“ _Fine_. I’ll teach the brat good life lessons or whatever to contrast whatever shady crap _you’ve_ been teaching him.” Mr. Leone didn’t seem very happy, and neither was Haruno. Mr. Buccellati creeped him out sometimes, but he never hurt him, and he did nice things for Haruno. He could already feel the dislike coming from Mr. Leone.

“Come on, Haruno. Let’s get you home.” Mr. Buccellati waved to a still scowling Mr. Leone, and took Haruno’s hand to walk him away.

* * *

The next day, Mr. Buccellati picked him up and brought him to Mr. Leone, who was waiting at a train station. His hair was now in a ponytail, and we wore makeup and purple lipstick like he’d seen his mother wear. “Good luck!” Mr. Buccellati told them. He gave Mr. Leone a warning glare, to which he responded by rolling his eyes. Then, he seemed to be gone as fast as he appeared, and Haruno was left alone with the grumpy man.

“Uh, Mr. Leone? Where are we going?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, kid. My name’s Leone Abbacchio. That would be Mr. Abbacchio to you.” He seemed a little less hostile than yesterday, but he still looked at Haruno like he was going to explode like a bomb and he didn’t want to be near. “We’re going to the coast. You like the sea?”

Haruno had only seen it a few times, but he nodded. He thought the water was pretty, and he didn’t want to make who he now knew as Mr. Abbacchio mad. “Um,” he had something else he wanted to ask, but he didn’t know if it would offend the man.

“Speak up kid. Remember, no one can hear you if you aren’t clear.” Haruno nodded nervously.

“Uh, how did you do that with your face?” Mr. Abbacchio looked puzzled for a second. “With the lipstick?”

“Oh, you want to know how I did my makeup?” He nodded. Seeing his mother transform her face every night fascinated him, even if she’d never let him touch it in a million years. “Well you’re too young for it, but it takes a lot of work. You need to make sure you don’t smudge it, or you’ll have to start over.” Haruno recalled his mother snapping at him not to bother her when she did her makeup. It seemed to make sense.

The rumble of a train pulling in halted their conversation. “This is ours.” Mr. Abbacchio ushered him into the train car a bit awkwardly, like he didn’t know how to deal with a kid. “Do you want to know more about my makeup?” Haruno shook his head. He prefered it the less they spoke. Less chances to make someone angry. Mr. Abbacchio shrugged and took out the book Haruno had seen him reading yesterday. He busied himself looking out the window. As they left the city and entered the countryside, Haruno gawked at how green it was. There were so many hills and so much grass, and cows roaming slowly. He decided that if he had to put up with grumpy Mr. Abbacchio to see this, it would be worth it.

* * *

In the end, it hadn’t been as bad as Haruno thought it would be. Mr Abbacchio mostly was quiet, only speaking when Haruno asked him something or to tell him where they’d be going. The coast was nice, even if they’d gone somewhere with a lot of people being really loud. When they got back, Mr Abbacchio stood back. “Make sure you only mention Bruno to your parents. I don’t know how they’ll take it if they know I took you.” Haruno thought they wouldn’t care as long as he wasn’t bothering them, but he didn’t mention this and just nodded.

“Is Mr. Buccellati your friend?” Mr. Abbacchio stiffened at this.

“Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“Is that why you’re looking after me? Did he ask you to?”

“You saw it yesterday. And no, it’s not for Bruno. Not at all.” He said no more on the matter. “Now go inside. Your parents will get worried.” They really wouldn’t but he went back anyway. He turned around, figuring he ought to say goodbye and thank you to Mr. Abbacchio, but like when he first met Mr. Buccellati, the tall man was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this chapter was a tough one to write. I really wanted to make the character's perspectives be in line with what they wanted, like DIO being super arrogant, and Giorno/Haruno being young and not understanding everything. And don't worry, Bruno's still best mom, he's just teaching Haruno what he thinks will be valuable, like how to get money (illegally). And he's a demon, so he's got some funky vibes going on. Abbacchio will come around eventually, but he's wary of Haruno right now.
> 
> I think in canon DIO would treat Diavolo with caution since he wouldn't know crud about him, but given how out there and dramatic DIO is, I thought he might also look down on Diavolo too. After all, if he's still hiding even with such an overpowered Stand, that says to DIO that he still thinks someone can beat him. Here that's turned up to 100 since they have a history together. To be clear, DIO's like the OG Lucifer who rebelled against Heaven, and Diavolo backstabbed him and took power for himself after the war was over. So he's "Satan/the Devil" who's nasty while DIO's the more charismatic, smooth talking Devil persona who convinces you to sell your soul.
> 
> Anyway, tune in next time for, in no particular order, tax benefits, being nice to children, and Heaven and Hell in the flesh.


	4. Even Angels Hate Paperwork

“Funny seeing you here.”

Leone turned to see the comfily dressed demon next to him. They were on the second floor of a mall, the ground made of plastic or glass or something else that looked clear but not clear enough to see through. Leone was glad of it. Despite being from on high, he did not enjoy heights. It made him think of falling, of watching figures with wings writhe and screech as they dropped like flies, their feathers dipped in black and their flesh twisting in unpleasant shapes. The memory of the event had mixed with the nightmares, so he wasn’t sure what was entirely accurate about it.

He wondered which one of them had been Bruno.

“Yes, it seems we’ve been doing that often lately.” Bruno gave a small smile as they began to walk. To get to Heaven or Hell, one only needed to do what it said on the tin. Go up or down. “What’s your business?” he asked.

“Oh, you know. Checking in on the… situation with the child. Giving updates. I guess they’ve got some new info for me too.” Leone hmmed thoughtfully.

“Don’t know how difficult they can be Down Under, but I’m expecting my kind to be a bit difficult. They won’t take kindly if they discover our collaboration.”

Bruno chuckled. “Oh certainly! Not any more than my kind would like it. As for difficulty, it really depends who you’re talking to.” They both came to the start of two escalators, one going up, and one down. “Well, this is our stop. Be seeing you.”

“You too.” And they each stepped on, one going up, and one going down.

* * *

Heaven described in one word would be pristine.

Spotless, white floors practically seemed to glow. It was rather like an office building, if it had no actual offices. The windows showed fluffy clouds floating by. The space was mostly empty save for the occasional figure strolling through with a folder or book in hand, dressed professionally in pale clothes. Leone had dressed in grays and whites today as opposed to his usual black or purple. He didn’t need any snide comments today.

He was greeted by a cheerful voice. “Hello Leone! Fancy seeing you today!” It was a young lady wearing a light pink blazer that matched her hair.

“Reimi, good to see you to.” As far as angels went, not many of them truly understood humanity. Given that so many spent their time up here, leaving the act of actually going to Earth to those like Leone and Reimi, those who tried to turn humanity on the right path. Reimi was specifically good with kids, patient and empathetic. She enjoyed Earth, even if it also saddened her with how short its creatures' lifespans were.

“Who would’ve thought we’d see each other at the same time! You don’t come up here that often anymore if it’s not for reports.” Leone nodded and shifted his eyes slightly so he wouldn’t have to meet hers. The exact reason for his sparse meetings was not something he was keen to reveal all the details of, even if that was what he was going to report.

“Yes, well I’ve been very busy lately. I’m sure you’ve heard the news.” Reimi’s steps slowed a bit as Leone caught a sad smile that quickly disappeared.

“I have heard. Well, we all knew this was coming someday. At least we can prepare.” They turned the hall to walk into an elevator lobby. She tried to beam again. “I’m going to the third floor. You?”

“Tenth.”

“Oooh, that’s high up! You must have something vital to report.” He was secretly glad they wouldn’t have to stand awkwardly around each other for very long. The reminder of the End Times wasn’t exactly a pleasant conversation starter. The number turned over the door to say 1st, and opened with a ding! Pleasant jazzy elevator music played as they rose by other transparent floors.

As they ascended, each floor got a little less empty. The second floor looked like a hotel lounge, with white and gold chairs and couches and help desks with angels busily sorting through something or other behind it. The third floor, Reimi’s stop, looked like a hospital waiting room on an average day. A good amount of people, but not enough for it to be called busy. It was much bigger than any waiting room on Earth. It reminded him of his visit to the hospital in Japan, where he’d seen the Destroyer of Worlds for the first time.

“This is mine. Good luck, Leone.” Reimi said. Another sad look passed through her eyes before she cheerfully strode out, a solid briefcase in hand. Now alone, Leone continued to rise. Going past several floors, including ones that resembled a library, an indoor botanical garden, and a particularly wide floor consisting of a large amphitheater. Finally, the elevator stopped with another _ding!_

He stepped out onto a lush red carpet, and took in the tenth floor. Heaven had changed over the millennia, taking all the preferred aesthetics they enjoyed from the human world and morphing it into places out of time, some with times that shouldn’t coexist. Here, bronze metal pillars held up a roof decorated with murals of history and the heavens. They weren’t the intricately detailed figures of the Renaissance, but were more geometric shapes made of color and shade, invoking the Ancient Greeks. The ceiling was far above him, making the already wide rooms on this floor even more spacious.

Golds and reds and blues could be found everywhere you looked. The red carpet that sprawled impossibly through all the hallways while still remaining the same piece of decorum had been walked over a thousand times, yet had never needed cleaning. And his least favorite part of it all; the statues.

All over the place, some were on each side of the carpet, looming over those who came and went. But some simply jutted out of the wall as if they were one with it. They were mostly humanoid figures in a variety of poses, some that would be considered anatomically impossible. And they were all blindfolded, and had stern expressions with slight frowns. It was not even the feeling of being watched that bothered him. While he liked his privacy, nothing was ever private in Heaven. Even on Earth, he knew he was still directly under their eyes. Heaven had better things to do than watch the angels who occupied Earth 24/7, but whenever he called for them, the immediate responses were often too sudden for his liking. No, it was not that.

He felt like they were judging him, as the faintly disapproving looks on their faces stared at him from every angle. Perhaps it was intentional. After all, what was this floor’s job for if not judgement?

He approached the doors at the end of the main hall, which were wood carved with a figure on each side, one male, and one female. They were staring up at something, their faces seeming to be in shock. He opened both doors at once, because what was the point of having double doors if you didn’t open them simultaneously?

Inside was what looked like a courtroom, filled with thousands of empty seats surrounding the bench, where the only three people in the room stood. Two stood expectantly for him, one watching nervously and the other with a hawk’s gaze. On a desk next to them sat a third figure, busily shuffling papers in preparation to write something down.

The one who’d watched nervously shook his hand as he reached them. “Hello there, you call yourself Leone these days, yes?” He wore a tasteful suit, but there was something frazzled and rumpled about him, like he’d been caught in a windstorm. He had long scruffy blond hair tied back, a noticeable scar going diagonal across his face, and a tophat. His true name was Phanuel, the angel of repentance, but he’d adopted the name Robert E. Speedwagon and a Cockney accent after living through the Victorian Era on Earth. Despite the fact that the only thing he’d kept from the accent was the inflection, and none of the slang or rhymes. He knew them, but after several complaints had been sent in about unprofessional language and misunderstandings, he’d reluctantly put them to rest.

A nice angel, if a bit too nervous to be an archangel in Leone’s opinion. The scar showed he was no stranger to a fight, but public affairs were not exactly his strong suit.

On the other side, there was a steel eyed woman wearing a blue pantsuit with more hair than body. Jophiel, angel of judgement and understanding, though that last part might be ironic. More recently, she called herself Yukako. She wasted no time. “We have called you here for your report on the Adversary. Get to it.”

As she spoke, the one at the desk began to inscribe her words on the paper. Metatron, God’s own voice and celestial scribe, now called Rohan. Leone had found over the years that Rohan’s job sounded more prestigious than it really was. He was a secretary and court recorder all rolled up in one. He’d also received more complaints than any of the other archangels for improper workplace behavior. Rohan never seemed to care. Most of the books in the library were written by him. While the majority were simply copies of various historical texts, some were his own original work. Leone had found his need to focus on the most random of details rather odd and so the information had never been of any use to him. He got along well enough with him, to the point of working cordially and not being considered annoying to him.

Here, the three archangels had called him to report his findings. This was an unusual site. Normally, Rohan simply recorded reports and sent them off to whoever needed to see it. But the matter of the Antichrist was not a small matter.

He straightened his posture before speaking. “Haruno Shiobana, age five, originally born in Japan, but currently resides in Italy.”

“We know that.” snapped Yukako. “Do you really think there are no other angels in Italy?” Leone’s heart thumped. Had he been observed… associating with Bruno? Or getting too close to the Antichrist? Nothing in Yukako or Speedwagon’s gazes showed suspicion, so he just continued.

“The child hasn’t shown any signs of manifesting power. He’s rather shy, keeps to himself. His parents are… not good people. I think perhaps that’s why.” He heard Rohan _hmm_ -ing thoughtfully at the words he wrote.

“So nothing of note?” Speedwagon asked. He sounded curious, but his eyes betrayed relief.

“Nothing that is too significant. However, there is an idea that I’d like to bring up with you all.” All three pairs of eyes looked at him. This was the moment he’d dreaded. “I have considered stepping in with the care of the child.”

“Absolutely not.” snapped Yukako. “Go on...” said Speedwagon simultaneously.

They looked at each other, Yukako very accusatively. Speedwagon shrugged bashfully. “What’s the harm? Isn’t it his job to observe the Antichrist?”

Rohan was scribbling faster than ever in order to let himself watch as much of the exchange as possible. Yukako sighed. “There is not supposed to be direct contact with subjects of missions! You know this! And for what purpose would this be? This is the one who’ll bring about the End Times. What could you possibly gain by getting closer?”

Leone cleared his throat again. “I was thinking, and it’s just a thought, but what if I could, maybe stop it?” There was silence. He was sure he’d made a mistake. Yukako looked like she didn’t know whether to be mad or confused. Speedwagon was just confused. And Rohan-

He burst out laughing. The other three angels stared in shock. Rohan didn’t really talk while he recorded statements. It would be too much of a hassle to talk and write, and it wasn’t his job as recorder to get involved. So they all stood, shell shocked while Rohan’s peeling laughter echoed through the room.

Finally, he composed himself and began to speak. “And how, Principality Leone, do you plan to single-handedly stop the End Times? Are you going to kill the child? I don’t think that’d be a very holy thing to do. So what? Are you going to teach the Antichrist about love and friendship and hope he doesn’t grow up to destroy the world?”

Still caught off guard, Leone tried to get words out. “That’s… I mean, yes? That kind of, well it is what I had planned. Kind of. Yes.” It made Rohan laugh again, more subdued this time.

“Well, I’d like to see you try! And I mean it, I would like to see you try.” Speedwagon just gaped at him, while Yukako narrowed her eyes.

She spat at him. “If this is another one of your half assed suggestions Kishibe, then I suggest-”

He cut her off. “No no, it might be worth a shot, At the very least, we get to see how it turns out.” He turned to Speedwagon. “This is a chance we’ll never get again. Observing the Antichrist, how he acts, how he’s different from an angel or demon. Don’t you find it fascinating?”

Speedwagon nervously spoke. “So, does that mean the End Times can really be stopped?”

Rohan laughed. “No.”

His shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

“Don’t be ridiculous now. This has been foretold since the beginning. It’s going to happen whether we do anything or not.”

Leone let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. It had been a while since he’d felt so scrutinized. Usually his tall stature and imposing glare made him the intimidating one, even to other angels. “There is one last reason I’ve asked to be more direct. I’ve been seeing the demon who calls himself Bruno Buccellati also observing the child.”

That got Yukako’s attention. “Bruno Buccellati, you say? He’s a well renowned demon, responsible for several notorious incidents in history.” Her eyes turned sharp again.. “If _he’s_ getting involved, perhaps a more direct approach would be for the best. At the very least, you could keep an eye on whatever Hell is planning for Armageddon.” She gritted her teeth at the thought of it. Yukako was rather aggressive when it came to Down Below. Giving her a reason to one up them had been his best bet. Though it might be a tad hypocritical considering what he was trying to hide, Leone silently thanked God for it.

The three angels exchanged glances with each other. There didn’t appear to be any arguments. “One last thing, Leone.” Speedwagon said. “How do you intend to step in, exactly?”

 _Well shit_. Leone knew what he was going to say, but now the idea just seemed stupid. Did he really want to go this far for some creepy brat who was going to end the world no matter what he did? Then he remembered the way the kid sat quietly, desperate to not attract any attention and flinching when he spoke, the look of sadness on Bruno’s face, how boring and static life would be in Heaven’s empty hall’s where statues with no eyes would stare judge him for eternity. How he would feel if he sat by and did nothing.

“My plan is to adopt him.” he said firmly.

This prompted a few raised eyebrows, but nowhere near the initial reaction. “I suppose that would be ideal to observe the child,” Speedwagon mused. “We’ll leave the fine print up to you. I’m sure lots of human paperwork is involved. Nothing we’d understand.”

Leone just nodded. “Right”. Would the parents even allow Haruno to be adopted? They clearly didn’t give much care to begin with, so he’d just assumed they would jump at the chance to get rid of him. If not, he could be very… persuasive. Not to mention Bruno.

Oh God, Bruno. He hadn’t considered telling him, or involving him. How was he going to take the news? With a start, Leone shoved down any notion that he cared how the demon felt. Rohan waved a hand. “You’re free to go now, by the way. Meeting adjourned.”

Yukako stiffly turned toward Rohan. “Not so fast, Kishibe. You promised me.” He rolled his eyes, exasperated.

“I didn’t promise you anything. Attending this meeting is part of our jobs, it’s not very angel-like for you to demand a reward. Only devils deal in absolutes”

“I don't care! Just tell me what he’s doing!” She snapped loudly. “He hasn’t stopped by for several months, I’m concerned!”

Rohan sighed again. “Maybe he’s avoiding you on purpose. Look, he’s not dead or hurt, so there’s no need to worry.” Yukako gasped, outraged.

“You say he’s avoiding _me?!_ How dare you!” Speedwagon gave him an embarrassed look.

“You’re allowed to go now, I don’t think you would enjoy this display.”

Leone raised an eyebrow. “Is this about Koichi again?” He’d met the other Principality a few times, but he mostly frequented Japan. He seemed to be a point of contention between Rohan and Yukako, who apparently vied for his attention for some reason. He wouldn’t wish to be Koichi. Even just one Archangel keeping tabs on him would be nerve racking, though for different reasons.

Speedwagon nodded. “Really, there’s no need for you to stay. I’m sure you’d prefer it, in fact.” He ushered Leone away from the bickering angels. “Lovely seeing you. Good day!” and Leone was quickly sped out of the room.

 _That went better than expected,_ he mused as he took the elevator back down. _Now I just need to figure out how to explain it to Bruno_

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, Bruno was pacing back and forth in Leone’s gray building. There was a tense look on his face as he was deep in thought. Leone sat at his desk, feeling a tad awkward, but trying to seem patient. Finally, Bruno halted, having made up his mind.

“Leone?”

“Yes?”

“You do know this is incredibly foolish, right?” He internally scowled, but kept up his calm face.

“Care to explain why?” Bruno gave him a look.

“You’re not even a registered citizen, Leone! You can’t adopt!” Oh. Right. Shit. He leaned back, thinking of how he’d gotten the place. It had been a lot of miracling and glaring at people. They hadn’t given his signature a second look before eagerly getting out of there. A while back, he’d decided having citizenship was too much of a bother with the paperwork, and that he didn’t want to have to redo it and forge a new identity every 50 years so no one would question how he was still alive and unchanged. Yeah, yeah, it wasn’t the most righteous option, or whatever, but there was a reason he’d taken a field job instead of home base. From the dawn of time, paperwork had been a necessary evil that he was determined to avoid.

“So what? You’re telling me that you’re a legal citizen?” He couldn’t imagine a demon willingly subjecting themselves to any form of it. Bruno crossed his arms and huffed.

“As a matter of fact, I am. I can’t exactly commit tax fraud if I wasn’t!” _Of course,_ Leone thought. “But that’s besides the point. What do you even know about children?”

He racked his brain. “Uh, they’re tiny humans, they whine a lot, they’re creepy… and annoying I guess?” The disapproving look on Bruno’s face told him this wasn’t the right answer.

“See? This isn’t just when you pop in to occasionally make sure someone is behaving. You actually have to take care of it. And you’ve seen Haruno! He’s gonna need a lot of emotional care after what _they_ put him through.” There was anger and passion in Bruno’s voice. _He really cares, huh?_ Leone thought to himself.

“Alright, fine. What do you propose we do. Do _you_ want to adopt him, since you’re apparently so responsible with your paperwork and your knowledge of parenthood?”

Bruno was still. Thinking once again. “I… do have something in mind. But you will need to do your paperwork.” Leone groaned.

“God, why. This better be a good idea, Bruno.” The demon had a glint in his eye as Leone agreed.

“I think we can safely assume that neither of us are the best candidates for parents. But it wouldn’t have to be permanent.” Leone’s eyes widened.

“Meaning?”

“Well,” and Bruno look way too happy about his ideas. “As long as we get him adopted later, we could still foster. If we got married.”

* * *

Leone now had work to do. Perhaps the most he’d had to do since the eleventh century. And worst of all, it was paperwork.

 _We’ll have tax benefits Leone!_ He could hear Bruno saying now. _That’s double the tax fraud for me, and more paperwork for you!_ God, he wondered sometimes why they were even friends. Becoming a legal citizen, trying to foster a very specific child who wasn’t even up for adoption yet, and getting a marriage license for him and Bruno.

Truth be told, the idea didn’t insult him as much as he thought it would have, He preferred to think of it as their human alter ego identities who would be married. It was a human invention, the concept of matrimony, so it really wouldn’t mean much to either of them. It was just for convenience's sake. Just a means to an end.

He had asked Bruno how his meeting in Hell had gone. He’d been sparse with the details. “Oh, you know. Dirty, loud, weird music coming from places it probably shouldn’t.” Unlike Leone, Bruno had been a lot less honest about the whole thing. “I just told them the Antichrist was developing splendidly. Of course, we haven’t seen hide or hair of anything too unusual yet, but best to keep them happy.”

“Don’t you worry about them figuring out you lied?” he’d asked. Not mentioning Bruno was, as far as he was concerned, an omission and not a lie.

He had shook his head. “No, they don’t have any way to view Earth other than from what they hear from us. It’s a bit of a downgrade from what you’re used to, I’m sure.” There was no bitterness when he said this though. “Oh! I did learn an interesting fact about our soon-to-be ward. When he turns thirteen, my kind plan to give him a present. A Hellhound.”

Leone shuddered. He liked dogs well enough, but Hellhounds were nasty things. Aside from their demonic nature, they were prone to slobbering everywhere and generally being gross. He hoped they could get Haruno adopted by someone before that happened so he wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Speaking of which, Bruno had been working on the matter of the child. “Technically his legal name is Haruno Giovanna. Stepfather’s name. He might want to change it, so be ready for more paperwork.” Leone shot him a death glare. “Putting you and I together, I’m sure we can cause enough miracles to persuade the Giovanna’s to put their son up for adoption, and for him to be assigned to us.”

“And how long should this take?” He did not like the idea of being stuck in paperwork limbo for much longer.

“Maybe a few months. I’m not entirely sure how this whole thing works, to be honest, but it’ll work out! Maybe.” That hadn’t been very reassuring. “Oh, and we’ll get money from the government for foster care, but just in case you might want to actually get some legitimate business out of this place.” Bruno gestured all around. Leone was about to protest, but Bruno cut him off. “This was your idea, remember.”

“Not entirely.” he’d grumbled.

“Besides, if we just miracled the money we’d cause all sorts of inflation to happen.”

“Wouldn’t you just love that?”

Bruno pretended to look offended at that. “An unstable economy is no laughing matter, Leone. We live here too.”

He’d rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I’m not homeschooling. The brat still creeps me out.”

He laughed. “Fine, have it your way dear.”

Leone sputtered. “Dear?!”

“We’re going to be married, remember? We should at least act like it.”

“Fine.” He crossed his arms. “But if that’s the case, the first thing you can do is sleep on the couch.” Bruno had just continued to laugh, though it wasn’t a haughty one, but instead, sounded genuinely endeared.

* * *

Trish was almost five, and as her mother had found, quite the rising star. Her daughter was usually a quiet child, observant and blunt. But when the radio was on, her little baby voice could be heard joyfully chirping along to the lyrics. She’d always ask Donatella for just one more lullaby before bedtime. Once, Trish had even tried to have a little concert after dinner.

She cried “Mama! Mama!” and grabbed Donatella's hand to pull her to the front room. She tied a blanket around herself and held a spatula like a microphone, and gave her best performance. Donatella didn’t quite recognize the song, as Trish forgot half the lyrics and likely messed up the rest, but she gave her a standing ovation.

“Encore, encore!” she called. Trish gave a stubby little bow, looking very proud. Donatella laughed and picked her up, spinning her baby girl in a circle. Trish giggled until her mother got dizzy and put her down again. “So, my little popstar,” she said, ruffling Trish’s hair. “What do you want for your birthday?”

Her little face scrunched up in thought. Then her eyes sparked with an idea. “Dog! A dog!”

Donatella sighed. “Sorry sweetie, you know the house is too small for a dog. And I have my hands full with you already.” Trish pouted.

“I’m gonna have a dog one day you know!” She said it with such conviction.

“Yes, maybe one day.” She picked her little girl up. “But now it’s time for bed.” Trish reluctantly yawned, not stubborn enough to deny her exhaustion. As Donatella tucked her into bed, Trish suddenly opened her eyes wide and tugged at her.

“Mama?”

“Yes Trish?”

“Who’s my papa? Grandpa is your papa, so who’s mine?” A pause. Then-

“I’ll tell you when you’re older, dear.” Donatella kissed her on the forehead.

“Promise?” Trish asked, still staring.

“Promise.” Donatella shook her daughter’s little chubby hand to prove it. “When you’re older, you can know everything about your father.” Trish seemed satisfied, and snuggled herself into the blankets. _As much as I know, anyway,_ thought Donatella, as she dimmed the lights and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, writing anything that has to do with legal systems: And then it happened. Somehow  
> Seriously, I don't know how the Italian foster system works, so just take this. Right Leone, "Just for convenience's sake". Also, despite what I said last chapter, this chapter only had Heaven in it. It was getting long and the events didn't feel different enough to warrant it being two chapters. The judgement floor Abbacchio was on is supposed to be Art Deco style, if that helps.  
> There are going to characters from all parts, so buckle in to see who I can fit in here to help expand the narrative.  
> Next Time: Adventures in being a parent, and we get to finally see the rest of the Bucci Gang!  
> Also comments are my lifeblood, so let me know what you think of the chapter!


	5. A Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruno gets new parents and a new name. Olive Garden holds lots of surprises.

When they both arrived at his house, Haruno thought his heart would jump out and betray his muted expression.

Normally it was just Mr. Buccellati who’d come to pick him up, and if it was a Mr. Abbacchio day, drop him off at the park they’d first met at. But not only was it Mr. Abbacchio who came, but both of them at once. Speaking to his mother. It was all Haruno could do to not make a sound as he crouched behind the old couch. Did he do something wrong? Were they going to leave? He wanted to run out and hug Mr. Abbacchio’s leg and apologize for thinking he was scary and thank him for not hitting him even when he was being bad and deserved it. But he didn’t. That was just a fantasy. Instead he just stayed put and tried to listen in.

He could make out his mother’s voice. “Honestly, that kid’s more trouble than they're worth. But I can’t blame you for wanting some foster money out of it. And at least Haruno’s quiet. The child support money was good, but ever since I got remarried, that’s been a no go.” Haruno froze. They  _ were _ talking about him.

The next voice he heard was Mr. Buccellati. “Oh, so your husband isn’t Haruno’s father?”

She scoffed. “No, and if you  _ must _ know, it was a one night stand with some British guy. Don’t know anything about him, so don’t bother asking.”

“Oh,” Mr. Buccellati sounded disappointed. “Nothing at all?”

“Well, I met him on vacation in Egypt.” she admitted. “But that’s all. The guy was real full of himself too. And a bit freaky. I wouldn’t go looking for him if I were you. Just seems like I’d be nothing but trouble.”

“We have no intention of looking for him.” Mr Abbacchio said. He sounded more hostile than usual to Haruno, who shrank back even further. He’d never heard his mother talk about his father before. They’d met in Egypt? Was his father still there?

“So, do you agree to our proposition?” asked Mr. Buccellati.

Haruno heard his mother sigh. “Fine, but I’m going to have to ask my husband. I don’t think he’ll object to getting rid of Haruno though.” Haruno stiffened. They were getting rid of him?! What had he done? Did Mr. Buccellati and Mr. Abbacchio ask them to get rid of Haruno so they wouldn’t have to bother with him anymore? For the first time since he’d realized it was useless, Haruno wanted to cry. 

“Very well. We’ll be back next week. Make sure to have everything in order.” Mr. Abbacchio said.

“Yeah, yeah.” replied his mother. She shooed them out and he heard the door shut. And then it was just Haruno, trembling behind the old couch.

**  
  
**

* * *

It was one week later. Haruno had spent it in a mix of apathy and fear. Internal fear of what would happen to him, but externally he felt freer in a way. He crept around his stepfather afraid less. It no longer mattered, because they were getting rid of him.

When he heard the door knock, he nearly jumped. He prayed, but that was quickly cut short as his mother opened the door and two tall men, one dark haired and one silver walked in. This time he did not hide behind the old couch. There was no point in delaying it. He just stood in the hallway, waiting to be called. 

He spied the adults murmuring over paperwork. Mr Abbacchio had a sour look on his face as he explained something about “custody” and “terms & agreements”. Whatever it was, he did not look happy to be discussing it. Mr. Buccellati, meanwhile, looked amused. 

Eventually his mother cut off the discussion. “Just tell me where I can sign.” 

“Did you consult your husband?” asked Mr Buccellati.

“Yes, he already signed his part.” She shoved a half crumpled piece of paper at them. It was stained with something brown. Mr. Abbacchio took it and wrinkled his nose. 

He stuck out a clipboard to his mother. “Just sign here. Where is the kid, anyway?”

His mother turned back. “Haruno! Get over here!” Haruno nervously scurried over to where the adults stood, trying to not meet their gazes. “Haruno, you’ve met Mr. Buccellati. He and his… partner, are going to be taking care of you full time.”

Haruno felt like all the air had left his body. Taking care of him? Mr. Buccellati and Mr. Abbacchio were… taking him away from all this? Ignoring the “partner” comment Mr Buccellati bent down to put a hand on Haruno’s shoulder. “That’s right. You’re parents both agreed that it would be easier for both of us if we look after you for a while. Until we can find someone to adopt you permanently.”

Again he felt a sinking feeling. Until he got adopted? So they didn’t want him around in the end? He knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Mr. Buccellati saw his distraught expression and tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry Haruno, It’s going to be okay now.” He wished it were true.

“If you’ve done what’s necessary, then get out of here.” his mother broke in. “Haruno, I already packed your clothes and gave it to them. Get anything left and go.” Luckily for her, Haruno didn’t have anything besides his clothes to own. Despite everything, the urgency with which his mother told him to go stung a little. 

“Do you want to hold my hand?” Mr. Buccellati asked him as they left. Mr. Abbacchio went ahead to start the car, so it was just the two of them outside Haruno’s soon-to-be former home. He nodded without making a sound, carefully taking it. Mr. Buccellati’s hand was much bigger than his, but somehow it made him feel a little safer. “Don’t worry. No one’s going to hurt you now, okay?”

Haruno could just nod as he was led to the car. “Okay.” he choked out.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
**

Buccellati and Abbacchio were a… strange couple. At least, Haruno gathered they were supposed to be a couple. Yes, his parents often argued and his mother would come home late often, but at least they shared a bed. He didn’t even see either of them wearing rings. Both of them insisted he drop the “mister”, saying it was easier to just call them by their names. Both of them looked pretty awkward when he called them that, so he quickly stopped, not wanting to make them mad.

The house he now stayed in was near the ocean, a village outside of Naples that smelled of salt and fish. It wasn’t huge, but was certainly bigger than his old one. Buccellati and Abbacchio had rooms opposite from each other, both attached to the main kitchen/living room. Haruno’s room was next to Buccellati’s, with Abbacchio muttering about how he “didn’t want to deal with children at 3.” He’d been there for only a month, but the two seemed to have a pretty strict schedule. Abbacchio went out in the morning to go to work, which was a vague subject but seemed to frustrate him. Buccellati looked after him until 3 PM sharp, when Abbacchio came back. Then he'd go out to do stuff, usually coming back with groceries but being gone much too long for it to just be a shopping trip. 

When they were home, Buccellati had continued teaching him how to silently pickpocket someone and how to identify where someone’s wallet was. Haruno felt a bit bad doing it, but found the satisfaction of getting it right and receiving praise outweighed that. Abbacchio was another matter. He never seemed to know what to do when in the room with Haruno. It was summer, so he wouldn’t start school for a few months, but he wondered if the schedule would stay the same when it started. Mostly he just tried to stay out of Abbacchio’s way for the meantime. The tall man always looked at him like he was expecting something to happen. Haruno didn’t if it was a good thing or a bad thing he was waiting for.

While they swapped off cooking duties, Buccellati was definitely the better one. He knew a lot of different dishes that definitely weren’t Italian or Japanese or anything Haruno had ever tasted before. Occasionally, he’d take out some spice or substance that would make Abbacchio narrow his eyes and ask “When did you get that?”

Buccellati would just laugh and remark “Oh, you know. I’ve been around.” Abbacchio would scowl but whatever he made would definitely be worth it.

Almost a month into his new life, Haruno was asked an odd question. “So Haruno,” Buccellati began. He was peering over a document. “I was wondering if you liked your name.” His name? 

“What about it?” he asked back.

“Well, you know, since you’re a boy I was wondering if you wanted a different one.” he explained. “Also if you wanted an Italian one, since you mentioned kids made fun of you for having an unusual name. Your last name is already Giovanna” He’d never thought about that. Haruno could be a boy’s or girl’s name according to his mother, so it had never bothered him before. But… it didn’t sound bad to him.

“Um, I’ll think about it.” was his answer. Buccellati beamed at him.

“Great! Let me or L- Abbacchio know if you have any ideas, we would  _ definitely _ love to help you!” Haruno just nodded and went to go think of names that fit well with  _ Giovanna _ …

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

Being a parent was much less demanding than Leone would’ve thought, but at the same time much more stressful. Perhaps it was the fact that said child was the Destroyer of Worlds, Prince of Hell and all that, but he always felt pressured in front of the boy to behave. If he was supposed to be his “good influence”, he’d been doing a very bad job. Bruno had been the one to really talk with the boy, ask him how he was doing, make sure he was okay and all that. Leone knew he should probably step in to make sure he wasn’t being a corrupting influence or anything, but he felt like Bruno had it in the bag.  _ Why am I even here? Bruno’s got this covered _ , he thought to himself one day. 

Oh right. He was the one with a job.

Technically they both had jobs, but not ones that would pay. And thus, Abbacchio had been forced to do one of his other least favorite things besides paperwork: talk to people. 

Being a private eye wasn’t all bad. Being able to perform miracles made it easy to pull some strings and find out what he needed to know. He hadn’t gotten anything as gruesome as murder, and dropped cases the second they had any trace of mafia involvement. He was a legal citizen now, he didn’t need that sort of clout. Mostly it was missing persons cases the police didn’t bother with or busting cheating spouses. 

It paid alright. He still thought it would be easier if they just performed a miracle and produced some lira, but he didn’t want another lecture from Bruno about inflation and the economy. Oh well. He was a demon, so maybe he’d be down for embezzling.  _ God, look at me. Persuading a demon to embezzle so we can raise the Antichrist. _ If someone had told him this a few centuries ago, he would’ve smited them where they stood. Well, he wouldn’t have known what embezzling was, but the point still stands.

Still, he felt like he should do a little more besides being the breadwinner and tolerating the boy. God knows he’s had some pretty shitty father figures, including the  _ literal _ Devil. Sure, maybe he was going to grow up to end the world and start a cosmic war, but right now he was just a kid. And he deserved better.

Speak of the Devil, he was yanked out of his musings by a small tug on his sleeve. “Um,” Haruno stood there, looking anxious. Leone froze, not sure how to approach the situation. “Mr. A- Abbacchio, I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?” he tried to sound a little nicer than usual. Bruno had once politely informed him that he had “resting bitch face” that made him hard to approach, so he’d been working on it for the sake of getting more clients. 

“Well… see Buccellati asked me if I wanted a new name, and I have an idea I really like, but he’s out so...” The boy looked at the floor, not making eye contact.

“Uh, sure. What is it?” He hadn’t heard about this until now, but it was natural to assume that the kid would want a new name. 

He looked embarrassed to even be suggesting it. “Um, it fits my last name, so I thought… GIorno sounds nice.” Leone thought about it.

“So, Giorno Giovanna?”

“Yeah, that.”

A bit too much alliteration for his liking, but it wasn’t his choice, and hey, given he had named himself “lamb’s meat”, he was in no place to judge. So he gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “It sounds great, Giorno.” And the smile that sprang onto Giorno’s face was bigger than he’d ever seen him give before, that he silently decided that this whole parenting thing might be worth it.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

‘Really, Leone. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.“ Leone just smiled.

“It’s really no problem, Bruno. My treat.” As a kind of pseudo celebration for Giorno’s new name and having spent a whole month together now, he’d taken them out for dinner in the city. It was a simple yet elegant restaurant called Trattoria Trussardi. Looking online, it was pretty reasonably priced for some good, quality Italian food. 

Bruno was helping Giorno turn the pages of the menu, which was a bit big for his stubby arms. “What do you want to get Giorno?” Giorno puffed up a bit at hearing his new name. He had started to smile a bit more, which somehow warmed the cold recesses of Leone’s heart. 

Just as he began to settle in and take a look at the menu, he saw a face that made his heart stop. A well built man dressed in the most stereotypical chef’s outfit Leone had ever seen approached the table. He had a square face and a warm smile. “Good evening, sirs. What can I get for you today? I am Tonio Trussardi, owner of the restaurant.” He peered at Giorno, who shied away from the stranger. Tonio just smiled, not taking offense. He seemed to glow with generosity and kindness, almost like an angel. And as Leone knew, he was an angel. 

_ Shit _ . Not only had he been caught red handed, but it was by  _ the _ Archangel Sandalphon. Or now, Tonio. He frantically tried to catch Bruno’s eye, but the demon didn’t appear concerned. He simply reciprocated Tonio’s warm demeanor and ordered for him and Giorno. Normally it was easy enough for angels and demons to sense each other, but the whole point of taking human bodies and form was to make that process harder. And the higher ranked you were, the easier it was to blend in (physically, at least. Socially passing for human was another matter). He recognized Sandalphon by his face, but Bruno likely didn’t.

“And you, signore?” 

“Huh?” His eyes were met by two clear blue ones. Leone could feel them looking through him, but there was no hint of suspicion or accusation in them. He felt nauseous. Sandalphon was one of the nicest Archangels, someone you didn’t just obey, but wanted to impress and be better for. Whenever he watched a human say to their child “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.” he could swear he could feel Sandalphon in the room. He felt guilt pool up inside. He pushed it down and tried to order. “Uh, I’ll have some caprese salad to start.” Tonio beamed at him. It made Leone feel even worse.

“Right you are, sirs. Now if you could please hand your menus here...” Leone desperately tried to tune out the restaurant to think. Should he tell Bruno? Would it be safe to do so in a restaurant owned by the angel himself? Not to mention Giorno. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone here, but he also didn’t want to have that conversation in front of him. He spent most of the meal in an awkward silence, trying to reach for a solution. Bruno frowned at his change in mood but didn’t comment on it, and Giorno seemed too happy to notice at the moment. He tensed up whenever Tonio approached their table, but he only ever smiled and asked how they were doing. A separate waiter served their food, making Leone a little less tense than if he’d been there the whole meal.

When they were mostly done, Leone stood and announced he had to use the bathroom. Angels and demons didn’t need to eat, but when they did, it had to be expelled as well, so it was not a lie that he needed to use it. However, the main purpose was he needed to get away from the commotion and think. He took a deep breath, tried to compose himself, and left the room. Only to be met by none other than Tonio Trussardi. He tried not to panic. “Uh. Hello.” he said. 

“Good evening to you to, Signor- hm, I don’t think I ever got your name?” he asked.

“Leone. That is, Leone Abbacchio.”

He clapped his hands together joyfully. “Signor Abbacchio! Good. I was looking to talk with you in private.” Leone’s heart thudded. Having little option, he followed Tonio out through a side door into the alleyway.

He shuddered, ready to be exposed. “You can drop the pretenses. We both know what this is about.” Tonio didn’t turn around, simply making a “hm” sound.

“So, Signor Abbacchio. That is what you are calling yourself, yes?” He turned and met Leone’s gaze. His eyes were still calm. “I was pleasantly surprised to see you here.”

“Pleasantly?!” He exclaimed. “But what about-” he stopped abruptly. If he hadn’t noticed Bruno or Giorno, he couldn’t be the one to reveal them.

Tonio was just shaking his head. “Yes, yes. I saw that demon in there. He was very polite, you know.” Leone was getting more and more confused by the second.

“So you knew, but-” The chef laughed heartily. 

“The Great Plan is mysterious, my friend. If you were going to fall, you would have done it six thousand years ago. I trust that you will not fall to temptation.” A bit of the tension eased from his body. But that still didn’t answer all his questions.

“So- are you going to tell anyone?” Tonio paused, looking thoughtful.

“It’s already known that you’re trying to look after the Destroyer of Worlds. I don’t see the point.”

“But-”

“You forget, I watched you both tonight, Signor Abbacchio.” He placed a friendly hand on Leone’s shoulder. “I can tell both you and Signor Demon in there really care about that child and each other. I’m not one to interrupt that.” Leone started to sigh with relief when something Tonio had said sunk in.

“Each other?! You mistake me. We’re posing in the human world for convenience’s sake. So we could foster the child. We figured there’d be an even chance of the Antichrist taking either of our lessons to heart. It’s nothing else.” Tonio raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever you say, Signore.” He smiled gently. “But I will say, if he’s trying to raise that boy to be evil, he’s doing a horrible job.” FInally, Leone let himself relax. “That being said, I’d like… a favor from you.”

He groaned. “Blackmail? Really?” Tonio smiled coyly.

“Not blackmail. A favor.” And he let Leone back further into the alley. Once they reached the end, Tonio reached out and grabbed the handle of a door that wasn’t there a second ago. Opening it revealed a rather bare room, with a few beds and empty plates that seemed to be from the restaurant. They were smeared with sauce and dressing, showing someone had eaten off of them recently. As Tonio collected the dirty dishes, he called out to the back of the room. “Boys! Come out here! I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

Peeking out from under the covers was a pair of eyes, warily surveying the scene. They spied Tonio and out sprang their owner. A grubby child, no more than seven or eight, with dark curly hair and a large sweater. He looked under the bed. “Ok guys! It’s just Tonio.” And two more boys crept out. Another dark haired boy, though much skinnier than the first, and a boy with white hair who glared mistrustfully at Leone.

Tonio turned to Leone. “I’ve been looking after these three for a little while. There are plenty of homeless out there, and I give out leftovers often, but these three are so young that I couldn’t just let them be.” It was true. Leone would put them at around six to eight, much too young to be able to fend for themselves. Tonio bent down and scooped up the first child. “This is Guido. Say hi, Guido.”

The boy peered curiously at Leone. “Hi!” he chirped. “Are you Tonio’s friend?”

He scratched his head. “Kind of.” He explained. “We’re acquaintances.”

“What does ak-quain-ces mean?” he looked down to see the scrawny kid had asked. His white haired friend quickly responded.

“They’re not friends, but they know each other. And it’s  _ acquaintances _ , Narancia.” he kept looking suspiciously at Leone. He couldn’t blame the kid. 

Tonio laughed at their antics. “Leone this is Narancia, and that’s Pannacotta.”

“Fugo.” the boy corrected. “I go by Fugo” 

“Fugo, then.” Tonio corrected. “Now Leone, seeing as you’re already in a prime position to take care of children, I was wondering if you could take on three more?”

The kids all gawked up at Tonio. “This guy?! Take care of  _ us _ ?!” Cried the one called Narancia.

“We don’t even know him!” insisted Fugo.

Leone was taken aback to. “Me? Why can’t you take care of them? You’ve already been doing that.”

Guido grabbed at Tonio’s apron. “Yeah, and we love your food! You make really good food, we can’t live without it!” Tonio gently scruffed the boy’s hair.

“You can still come back and visit me now and again,  _ tesoro _ . As for why, Leone, between my restaurant and my… other duties, I don’t have time to stay here enough to look after such young children. That’s why your position makes you perfect for this!” The kids wailed in protest. Leone sighed. He could feel a headache coming on, and he had a feeling that would be a sentence he would be thinking a lot soon.

“Fine, just let me talk to Bruno first.” Again the children protested.

“C’mon Tonio! We can stay here!”

“Yeah! I won’t ever complain about doing the dishes again!”

Tonio just shook his head. “I’m sorry, but Signor Abbacchio will be able to take care of you far better than I can.” He placed Guido down and looked at all of them. “You’ll be able to go the school!”

Narancia wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like school though! It’s so hard to do math!” Fugo, who looked a little less miserable at the mention of school, tried to reassure the other boy.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you with math Narancia!” The boy perked up a bit.

“Really? Thanks Fugo!” He gave him a tight hug that Fugo looked like he wanted to protest.

“Hang on - look, Tonio. I’d like to help you out, but I have to talk to Bruno first.” he explained. “Are agreement was only about  _ that _ child, not-” he gestured to the pile of play fighting that had formed as Guido leaped on top of the other boys. “This.” Tonio nodded.

“I understand, but-” he gave Leone a knowing smile. “I think he’ll be more susceptible to the idea than you think.”

Leone shrugged. “Maybe.” 

Tonio let him out and ushered the children into the kitchen so they could clean their own dishes. “ _ Buona serata _ ,  _ Signor Abbacchio _ .” he waved, and Leone made his way back into the restaurant.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

When he returned, Bruno and Giorno had already paid and were waiting outside, Giorno asleep in Bruno’s embrace. “He ate a lot.” Bruno explained as he stroked his black hair. “Say, where were you?”

Leone glanced back guiltily. “Alleyway. Had some business from Up Above. Why?” Bruno shrugged.

“No reason.” There was silence as they walked back to the car.

“Bruno?” Leone asked as Bruno took shotgun after strapping Giorno in.

“Yeah?”

“You know you didn’t have to pay, right? It was supposed to be my treat.” Bruno shook his head.

“It’s fine. It was still on your card, anyways.”

“Oh. Okay then, I just- well I feel bad about leaving you there.” he admitted. When Bruno didn’t respond he just started the car and started to drive. Perhaps that was going too far. Their partnership was forged by signing a certificate. They didn’t wear rings or sleep in the same bed. Maybe feelings should be just as business-like as their marriage had been.

“Leone?”

“Yeah?”

“You know you’re doing enough, right?” Leone almost stopped the car in surprise. He hadn’t expected that.

“Sure. Thanks”

“No, I mean it!” Bruno turned from looking out the window to look at him. “We couldn’t have gone out tonight without your job. Heck, we wouldn’t even be able to do this if you didn’t work!” 

Leone shook his head. “That’s nothing. The kid’s still afraid of me. You’re the one he likes.”

“Giorno told me he told you about his name first. He  _ trusts  _ you.” Bruno insisted. “Leone I… I can’t do this without you, okay? We’re a team. So don’t act like you don’t contribute anything valuable. You don’t need to prove yourself to me.” Leone drove along in silence.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

He turned slightly, still watching the road. “Which part?”

“That we’re a team.”

“Oh. Okay.” he blushed a bit. “Um, we’re a team.” Bruno smiled contentedly.

“And don’t you forget it.”

The drive back home was filled with the quiet sound of the jazz station and Giorno’s little snores. It was a pleasant silence, Leone had to admit.

“By the way,” he began.

“Hm?”

“Since we’re a team and all...” he hoped it was true. “How would you feel about a few more kids?” ****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tonio is one of my favorite side characters in Jojos, so you know I had to include wholesome pasta man here. Once again, I know nothing about how fostering works, so chalk it up to paperwork being boring. But hey! The Bucci gang's all here, folks!
> 
> Once again comments = motivation fuel. I hope you all enjoyed! Next time: A blast from the past and a very wholesome British couple.


	6. Historical Inaccuracies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashing back, Bruno visits a friend and finds something compelling. Leone meets the friendliest, buffest man to ever exist. Questions abound.

_ 500 years ago… _

**  
  
**

Despite his demonic nature, Bruno had never seen much for wars. He thought this as he overlooked a battlefield post what looked like a mere skirmish. War meant less people to corrupt and slowly take it out on other people. And looking at the bloodied corpses being dragged off by their comrades gave him a bad taste in his mouth. War brought up many bad memories.

None of this seemed to disturb the demon next to him. In fact, his red eyes seemed to drink in the carnage with joy, even if his face remained stoic. Bruno kept several feet away. Those eyes sent a quick shiver down his spine, though he hid it quickly. Soon though, it became apparent that the shiver was not just from apprehension. A chilly breeze began to blow, and on the ground, he noticed bits of frost forming on the grass and dirt. 

They were standing on a hill overlooking said battlefield, giving Bruno a bird’s eye view of the figures moving in like hyenas. Following them was the frost, spreading over the earth like water in a flood. He turned to the red eyed demon, who’s gaze was now fixed directly on the ones scouring the battlefield. “Those your boys?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

The demon Risotto just gave a noncommittal ‘hm’. Not many could tell, but Bruno had known him long enough to hear a hint of pride in that ‘hm’. Risotto and his posse thrived on conflict. While each of them varied in what specific vices they enjoyed, it was all violent conflict to one degree or another. As Bruno watched the growing ice, he knew the coming winter in this area would not be kind. And the strife that would emerge from starvation and desperation would feed the heathens. Hunger brought out the worst in people.

Bruno was getting impatient. “Why did you feel the need to call me here, Risotto? You know I have nothing to do with war.” The other demon thought about it for a moment, before slowly shrugging.

“I thought you would appreciate it. Perhaps. I find it… cathartic. And there has been so  _ much  _ war as of late, I thought you might be missing out.” Bruno glared at him.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I have no interest in whatever gory sights get you off. I have a bit more class than that.” Risotto seemed a bit disappointed, but he didn’t try to argue. For a demon of war, he was rarely ever truly angry. Bruno hoped never to see that again.

“To each their own, I suppose” he rumbled. “Are you going to leave, then?” Bruno took another look at the battlefield.

“I believe I will be going now.” he agreed. “Goodbye, Alastor.” An amused grin spread across Risotto’s face at the mention of his true name. Bruno could see a hint of sharp teeth. 

“Same to you.” And Bruno turned and started to walk down the hill. 

Against his better judgement, Bruno did not immediately simply transport himself away. He walked slowly, observing the landscape. The main forces had long retreated, but a few stragglers were hoisting corpses on their backs or lifting them between two people. The dead needed less caution to move around, after all.  _ Surely it couldn’t be worth it?,  _ was Bruno’s thought seeing the way they struggled through the now ice covered fields.  _ All this for a cadaver _ .

Maybe they needed the armor back. It took a lot of time and metal to forge, so perhaps they were simply gathering what they could still use. Maybe the armor would be given to another young hopeful, standing proud and bold with no idea a man had died in it. Perhaps multiple. He could see why leaving out dead soldiers with weapons and metal on them for the other side to collect was a bad idea. 

Bruno continued to watch. He was transfixed by their task. So he walked along, starting to follow some of those who’d left. Keeping himself discreet, he melted into the shadows of the men, jumping from each one to observe them. It also thankfully kept him from being susceptible to the cold. 

As they passed a hill, Bruno noticed movement from behind it. Curious, he flitted as a dark shade from a few bodies to reach the shadow of the hill. Creeping around, he quickly merged into the shadow of the figure behind it without seeing who it was. Bruno took a moment to get his bearings. Being nothing more than a shadow meant relying on senses other than traditional sight, smell, and touch. It was more like he was perceiving the world around him as a picture in his head rather than seeing it himself. And the sight before him didn’t fit easily into that perception.

It was another man carrying another one to safety, like all the others. But he was not carrying a dead man. Though injured, he was very much alive, given the odd choking sounds he made, almost in bewilderment. The other thing was how the men looked. The one being carried looked like the others; pale, with silver armor and unusually just as silver hair. Though he had the mark of the Lord on his helm, this battle was as much God’s will as anything Bruno did in his existence as a demon. But the man carrying him had dark skin, a plumed helm, and red-gold armor. The enemy of this man.

Further intrigued and confused. Bruno chose to remain in the shadow of these men. The silver man was sputtering out, apparently as confused as Bruno was. “Quoi-” the man managed to get a word out. French, apparently. The other man quickly slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Please don’t,” he asked in English. “Neither of us would benefit from being caught right now.” The silver one remained baffled, but frantically nodded and tried to keep still. The one carrying him nervously glanced at the soldiers going past them. He clearly did not want to be noticed. 

Once they were out of sight, he moved urgently as he could without jolting the man on his back. Though Bruno at first thought he had no clear destination, he soon arrived at the mouth of a burrow dug into a hill. Partly above ground and part submerged, it was quickly covered up by a bush, leaving Bruno to spread throughout the entire space entrenched in darkness. The not-injured man lit a few candles, putting them to the wall of the burrow so neither of them would accidentally catch fire. He ruffled through a satchel, bringing out what looked like ointments and bandages and quickly began to treat the injured Frenchman.

Speaking of which, said Frenchman let out a groan as his armor was removed and exposed a large slash across his torso. He hissed as medicine was spread on it, likely stinging. “I’m sorry that it hurts,” apologized the other man. “But it is necessary. It will grow infected if left alone.”

The Frenchman nodded and gritted his teeth. He didn’t appear to be up for speaking at the moment. But still he asked “Why?”

The dark skinned man looked at him, confused expression illuminated in the candlelight. “Why?” he repeated. “Isn’t it obvious? You spared me. I simply want to return your mercy.” Bruno listened silently. The idea was still foreign to him, but he supposed it was not unlike his truce with the angel. 

There was then silence as he worked on the other’s wound. “Your English is good.” stated the Frenchman. Indeed, his accent was actually much thicker than the other man’s.

“Thank you,” his savior replied. “I’ve studied many languages, English is just one of many. I am lucky you know it as well.” The Frenchman tried to shrug it off, but was currently in a state unable to perform that movement. 

“I spent time in England as a knight. Eventually, squabbles turned to treaties, and learning it was a good idea.” He struggled to turn his head, but tried to look up at the other. “I have heard the Ottoman Empire is vast. Where are you from?”

“I am from Cairo.” There was a hint of pride in the man’s voice. “We only became part of the Empire ten years ago. These grudges are fairly recent to me.” He had begun to tie bandages around the wound. “And why are you here?”

“Huh?”

“I seem to recall France being absent from this current campaign. Yet I heard several others in your party speaking it.” The silver man frowned. Gingerly, he lifted a hand up the his forehead, as if he just now realized his helm was gone.

“I went as a man of God, not of France.” His expression was downtrodden. “At least, I thought so.” Bruno scoffed to himself. It was always amusing and frustrating to see humans question God. It was something so obvious to him that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Whether or not someone believed didn’t help him out much. Faith didn’t stop anyone from being corrupt to the bone, nor did the lack of it mean the opposite. They settled into a somber stillness as the bandages were finished being tied. Once that was done, The Egyptian helped the Frenchman lean up on the wall of the burrow. 

_ What is he planning to do? _ Bruno thought.  _ Nurse him back to health? Go out and find food? That demon’s ice is going to make that a futile effort.  _ Even now they shifted the candles away from the entrance where a cold breeze occasionally could be felt.  _ Both could now be considered deserters. They’re done for _ .

Bruno felt he should move on. His curiosity had been satiated, it was just two compassionate fools who would die of starvation, or frostbite, or an infected wound. Yet he kept watching. There was something surreal about two people who, just this morning had rode out prepared to kill each other now huddling together under the earth, conversing in a tongue that wasn’t either of their own.

He surely wasn’t reminded of anything by the sight. Being neutral towards an angel was not the same as  _ getting cozy _ with them.  Though part of him wouldn’t mind .

They were hopeless. And yet, there was something hopeful about it. So despite himself, he stayed and watched. Perhaps he could take some pleasure in their boredom and starvation waiting to die.

(He knew that wasn’t why. But he didn’t dare think anything else.)

* * *

One month in and they weren’t dead yet. It turns out living in a mostly barren desert forced one to be resourceful about food and shelter. Breaking the ice of a frozen river to fish and digging up edible roots that were safe below the ground was surprisingly sustainable. They would make fires right outside their little burrow in the evenings, when it was still light enough to not be a dead giveaway of smoke. The barren ground meant there was little chance for a fire to spread, but they were diligent about putting them out and snuffing sparks. The Frenchman still ached with any chest movement, but it was better for him to get up and move as opposed to doing nothing. 

Bruno had found his endeavor fruitless. The unpleasantness of the situation hadn’t appeared to get to either of them yet. The two swapped stories about home and the differences of it all. “What a foolish thing it was!” laughed the Frenchman one day. “They left their candles lit and were surprised when the barn burned down! It was a tragedy, of course, and we took turns housing them in our houses while it was rebuilt. But we had to laugh first.” His new friend smiled at the anecdote and told one of his own. A back and forth of information.

Bruno felt he should be bored by now, just watching two human strangers converse.  He was not .

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

Gradually, they began to move away. Slowly.

They could not stay forever. There was not enough food with what they managed to ration, and both grew an ache in their chest for forested hills and desert bazaars. As the non-injured one, the Egyptian took it upon himself to guide his Frenchman to where he could discreetly find a horse and travel home from there. Bruno occupied their shadows still, keeping watch.

“But how will you get back?” demanded the Frenchman. His friend gave him a reassuring smile. 

“I will. It’s not as if I could come with you to France, after all. Imagine what a sight that would be!” He laughed boisterously, but it was still a bit regretful. “I’ve come a long way to be here, and I always expected to travel a long way back. There’s just a little more ways to go now.”

The Frenchman gave a reluctant sigh, but he knew it was for the best. “I’m going back to my village. I do not think they will give me away. And it’s not as if I truly deserted. Besides, it has been such a long time since I’ve seen my family.” He turned to the other. “I am truly grateful. When I return home, I’m going to melt down my armor and make something practical with it. Some garden tools, perhaps. For a simpler life.”

The Egyptian nodded in agreement. “A simple life sounds very appealing when I return.”

Bruno wondered if that would last. Humans had one life, and boredom could creep in like a snake. He certainly felt its sting with nothing but time ahead of him. Who would ever desire a life of nothing? An uneventful life seemed worse than death. At least humans knew there was an end.

When it came time for them to part, and Bruno found himself asking who’s shadow to tag along in next, he reevaluated his priorities. This was a nice excursion, but he should not find this so captivating. He needed to go.  _ Go where? _ There was nowhere he  _ needed _ to be. Was there anywhere he wanted to be?

_ Leone _ was the first thought he had. He wondered what the angel would think of this. He’d probably act disinterested, but the corners of his mouth would curve up a little in what was his version of a smile at the news of a small good being done. There was a slight ache in his phantom chest as he thought of how the conversation would go. He should go see what he was up to. Surely that would relieve some boredom.

So when the Egyptian and the Frenchman hugged and needed to say goodbye, Bruno stayed until each was out of the other’s sight, before letting himself slip into the winds to go ruffle the feathers of one particular angel.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

_ 250 years ago… _

Despite how ridiculous he found the whole affair, Leone had found the ones called witch hunters did have their uses, even if the name was inaccurate.

Since witches had been the craze around England, that was their original purpose, but just as many came face to face with wolfmen, bloodsuckers, and whatever other nightcrawlers more often than they found a hostile witch. 

And indeed, the man who came to meet him was not someone he’d peg for a witch hunter. Jonathan Joestar was dressed quite finely, from his heavy cloak to his tophat. He seemed out of place in the back alley they’d chosen to meet in. The other noticeable thing was that the man was  _ ginormous _ . Leone had never seen arms so beefy from a human. And yet, his kind expression and friendly tone made him seem more like a big teddy bear than a giant. 

“Hello Mr. Leone! Good day to you.” He tipped his hat in a very gentlemanly manner. He had no hat to tip, so he just nodded.

“Good day. You are the witch hunter, yes?”

“I suppose, though it’s not terribly accurate I’m afraid.” He looked a bit sheepish at this. “I’ve never actually met a witch, you see.”

“Most never do.” Witches were mostly harmless, in Leone’s experience. As long as they weren’t going around kidnapping children, which only really happened in fairy tales, Heaven didn’t care much. They were just humans, the presence of their craft didn’t change that. And it had more to do with nature than the Devil. Few witches were actually killed in the Witch Trials, being too shrewd for the crude methods of detection, but laying low seemed like a good idea after all the burning and hanging. “Let’s get to business, Mr. Joestar.”

He laughed at this. “No need to be so formal! Call me Jojo, everyone does.”

“Jonathan, then.” He settled on. “I’m not in the business of being familiar with people I’ve just met.” Jonathan looked disappointed at this, but didn’t protest.

“So you’ve heard of the incidents on Ogre Street, yes?” Leone nodded.

“Bodies turning up, completely drained of blood with large holes in their throats. Sounds vampiric to me.” He gave his two cents. “But the holes seem bigger than any vampire I’ve ever seen could make. Unless it was abnormally sized, I don’t think teeth can make holes that big.”

“According to the police, it looked like they had been… reached into. That is, with fingers instead of teeth.” Puzzlement showed itself on Leone’ face. He had never heard of  _ that _ side effect of vampirism.

As he thought it over, Jonathan began to glance around the alley. It was dark and smelled foul. Their boots were currently stepping in what he hoped was water. It seemed an unpleasant place to meet. “Before we continue theorizing, would you like to finish this conversation at my home?”

“What’s wrong with here?”

“Well, it’s...” he gestured to everywhere. “Besides, anyone could overhear us here. The comfort of one's own home is likely safer. And drier too.” Leone agreed as he took another whiff of London air. He would need a place to sleep as well. 

“Fine.” he said to Jonathan’s beaming face. He couldn’t turn down the offer of such a polite face. The Joestar residence was apparently in Liverpool, about 2 and a half hours from London by train. As he was dragged to the train station, he indulged Jonathan’s attempts to make small talk with “hms” and “that’s nice”. After the two had arrived, bought tickets, and waited for half an hour, they finally could take a seat and face each other. 

Jonathan began shuffling through a briefcase, taking out pictures of the scene. They were gruesome to be sure, but nothing he hadn’t seen before. The large marks were strange, but could easily be explained away by some new form of vampirism. Jonathan seemed very concerned about it despite his insistence that it wasn't anything too out of the ordinary. He tried to change to subject, asking him about what his life was like on the daily.

He seemed glad to indulge. “Well, my family is a rich one, you see. The Joestar’s are old money, but they say we got our status from killing monsters on behalf of the royal family.” He shrugged. “So it’s the family business, you could say. But it’s quite dangerous, so not everyone does it. My father, for example.” His eyes grew sad. “He… passed away a few years ago.”

Leone put a hand on his in sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Jonathan was the kind of person you didn’t want to see upset. He seemed too pure for that.

“It’s okay.” He reassured him. “It was some time ago.” He gazed longingly out of the window, watching the hills roll past. “I’m thinking of quitting this profession soon, actually.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?” From what he’d observed, family businesses tended to be taken very seriously around here.

“I’m a married man now, you see.” His face lit up again as he flashed the simple ring to Leone. “I originally got an archeology degree, so there are other options for me. And I don’t want to leave her alone. I just found out she’s expecting!” 

“Congratulations. How does your wife feel about your… line of work.”

Jonathan twisted the ring in thought. “She’s worried.” he admitted. “Understandably, of course! But she knows I can handle myself. She’s a nurse, actually, so she tends to be the one looking after me when I’m hurt.” His eyes looked soft as he spoke about her. “It’s amazing! Erina’s so patient with me - that’s her name - and she always makes sure I’m eating well and getting enough sleep.” Leone found the gushing a little endearing. “Any child of hers is going to be amazing, I just know it!”

_ And of his, too _ , Leone thought eyeing Jonathan’s thick arms. That kid was going to have the hugs of a lifetime. 

“What about you?”

“Hm?” He had zoned out.

“Do you have anyone in your life?”

“Oh,”  _ That _ . “No, I’m not one for settling down.” His face soured. “Or children, for that matter.”

To his surprise, Jonathan laughed at that. “They’re not for everyone.” He agreed. “Erina delivers so many babies that she says she feels like she’s done it already. All that effort and they start crying in return. But they’re worth it, I’m sure. We were all babies, once.”

_ Almost all of us _ . Leone had been little wisps of light, gradually forming hands to sprinkle stars in the sky and feet to stand on the earth. He had never been anything resembling an infant or an adolescent. 

They spent the rest of the ride between making more small talk and sitting in comfortable silence. Jonathan tried to ask about Leone, but he gave vague answers. “I’m not a witch hunter, or a finder or a monster killer or anything like that. I’m just a knowledgeable man with concern for human life.” Jonathan didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but was too polite to press it.

“Oh, we’re here already!” The large man leapt to his feet with the glee of a child. Leone followed suit, with much less eagerness.

In stark contrast to the city, the hills of the English countryside were vibrant and comforting. The air was clear and a gentle breeze ruffled their clothes as they walked on the path to the Joestar mansion.

Jonathan wasn’t kidding about his families’ wealth. Servants dutifully took their coats and scarves and hung them up without even asking. It was a lovely place, the main centerpiece of the front room being a watchful statue. It reminded Leone of certain rooms in Heaven, but it felt protective rather than judgemental. Jonathan eagerly brought him upstairs, chatting about how he had to meet his wife.

“Erina!” He called down the hallway. “We have a guest!” A woman curiously peeked out of the door.

A slender blond woman, with kind blue eyes and a wide dress. She was dressed modestly, with her hair up in a practical bun. A bit less gaudy than he would’ve thought looking at the house, but Jonathan had said she was a nurse. She sized him up with a keen eye. Leone was aware he looked dark and imposing next to the living gentle giant that was Jonathan Joestar. But she seemed to approve and stuck out a hand in greeting. “Erina Joestar, pleased to meet you.”

“You as well.” They exchanged a quick handshake. It was a firmer grip than expected.    
  
Jonathan went up and gave his wife a big hug. She couldn’t help but smile as his big arms enveloped her. “Erina, Leone here is helping me with some work matters. Could you make us some tea?”

“Of course,” she agreed. “I’m sure it’ll take a while. Will he be staying the night?”

“Of course!” Jonathan’s immediate generosity made Leone smile. There were still good people in the world. And he was right. It appeared he did give great hugs. They took two chairs in a study, where Jonathan laid out all the photos and police reports he had on the incidents. 

“The signs all clearly point to vampirism, but with a twist.” He held up a photo. “I know you said it’s not cause for concern, but these large marks still bother me. A vampire who attacks with claws instead of teeth sounds like it would be significantly deadlier. It’s easier to just grab someone than get their mouths on them.” 

“That’s true.” Leone admitted. “Be realistic; how deadly do you think it’ll be?”

“Well, if I have backup, and he all have stakes and crosses, it should be hard to touch us. It might be better to have them out of sight. I’m sure vampires are smart enough to look if we have crosses on us.”

“Maybe not. Lots of vampires are more corpse than human, in both form and intelligence.” Jonathan did not look reassured. 

“I hope so.” He looked at the pictures again. This time, at one of a woman who’d been bent at an odd angle, her dried body twisting out of an opened window. “By God, I hope so.”

The door opened just then. It was Erina. “I’ve brought some tea! I hope you don’t mind that I made Earl Grey.”

“Not at all!” Jonathan beamed. Leone took a cup, grateful to have something to drink. Having a drink gave him an excuse not to talk, and tea was classier in this situation than wine. “Oh, that reminds me.” Jonathan put his cup down on the table with the pictures. “I can get you some other photos taken of vampire attacks. We can compare them. One moment!” He dashed out of the room, leaving Leone to awkwardly sip the tea while Erina stood there with an empty tray.

“So,” she began. “You work with Jonathan, yes?” He shrugged.

“Not exactly. I’m just an informant here. I don’t do any of the actual stabbing here. Not my thing.” If he really had to, Leone was perfectly capable of wrestling a man to the ground. But truly he preferred if he didn’t have to fight. Once was enough for him. He had given away that sword because he’d felt bad for the humans, yes. But that sword had enough bad memories that he didn’t regret parting with it.

Erina watched him more intently than he would’ve liked. Finally, she said “Do you think he’ll be okay?” There was a pause. 

“I don’t know.” Another pause, more tense and brittle.

“Of course. It’s a dangerous job, after all. He’s strong, and it’s important but...”

“You don’t want your child to lose his father.” She looked up surprised. “Your husband told me. Couldn’t stop gushing about either of you.” 

“Oh...” she turned her face away but he knew she had a blushing smile.

“You know what else he told me?”

“What?”

“That he was thinking about switching professions. For both of you. It’s dangerous work, after all.” Erina gripped the tray a bit harder. There was relief in her eyes.

“Thank you for telling me.” She put a hand gingerly to her belly. “Just… promise me one thing.”

“I’m not sure if I can, but please do tell.” Erina looked at him pleadingly.

“Make sure he survives this. Please.” Leone cocked his head.    
  
“This one? Why now?”

“I just… I have a bad feeling. Worse than ever before that something is going to happen.” Leone looked at the woman, eyes full of concern and care for her husband.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

Jonathan reentered the room, papers in hand. “Here they are! Quite a bit to go through, but you can never be too prepared.” Erina ducked her head.

“I should be going” Leaving him and Jonathan in the room together.

“What were you talking about?” asked Jonathan.

“Nothing much. Just about this next case.” Leone remembered what Erina had said. That she’d had a gut feeling something was going to go wrong. Now watching Jonathan sift through papers to find images of common vampire attacks, he felt a deep sinking feeling as well.  _ Don’t be silly _ he chided himself.  _ Talking to her has just made you paranoid. She’s just worried about her husband, and she has a child on the way. It’s perfectly reasonable for her to be worried _ . He told himself that all throughout the rest of the meeting, up to when Jonathan told him he had plans to stake out Ogre Street the next few nights to try and catch a glimpse of the vampire.

“Isn’t Ogre Street filled to the brim with thugs and criminal activity? You might find more than just vampires there.” 

“It’s okay, I have a friend there.” Jonathan reassured him. “I wouldn’t have even considered going if he didn’t look out for me.”

Leone was still reluctant. “Alright. Make sure you bring crosses. Some holy water couldn’t help either.” Jonathan smiled his great big wholesome smile, and told him yes, he would be ready and yes, he would be careful. 

The next day, after a good night’s sleep in a soft feather down bed, Jonathan showed Leone to the door himself. Before he exited, he put a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and looked him right in the eye. “I mean it. Be safe. You have a wife and child now, and I can see it would break her heart to lose you.”

Jonathan bowed his head. “Thank you for the concern. I will keep that in mind.” As Leone was brought to the train station by the Joestar’s carriage, he had the odd feeling that he had just said goodbye for the last time.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

It had been.

Leone didn’t know what had happened exactly, but the only thing they’d found of Jonathan had been his head. Sliced clean off too, no bite or finger marks. Jonathan’s friend in Ogre Street had turned out to be Leone’s own boss Phanuel, or Speedwagon here. He described this all to him looking distraught.

“Leone,” he confessed. “I don’t think it was a vampire.” His eyes widened with shock.

“Why not?”

“Not only did Jonathan go covered in crosses hidden everywhere, I also put some protection on him without noticing.” He looked around, as if someone could overhear him. “All of that would’ve been enough to destroy a mere vampire. No Leone, this was something demonic.”

Leone became a bit less stressed. “Just demons? I don’t know what they’d want with a single human, and demons don’t drink blood. At least, they have no need to. I’m sure the filthy bastards could if they really wanted to though.”

“Language.” muttered Speedwagon, but his heart wasn’t in it. Jonathan had clearly meant a lot to him. “That’s the problem. It could only be a demon, but it doesn’t seem like a demon. It doesn’t  _ feel _ like a demon.” He tipped his hat in thought. “I’m going to the funeral. Will you accompany me?” Leone said yes, because he had no reason not to and this was his superior. He didn’t realize he’d see Jonathan’s widow until he actually arrived.

She didn’t notice him at first, as he stuck to the edges of the church and hung back when Speedwagon went to give his condolences. Their conversation turned rather lengthy. Leone guessed he would’ve known her too. But as he approached the casket to see if he noticed anything strange, their eyes locked.

There was an unreadable emotion in them. It wasn’t accusatory, but he still felt guilt creeping up. They were full of deep sadness and melancholy, but also acceptance. Like she’d expected this.  _ Maybe she did _ . Swallowing, he turned away unable to meet her gaze. The funeral had been closed casket anyway. 

Two things still haunted him about those days; the mysterious circumstances and the widow’s sad, knowing gaze.

**  
  
**

* * *

****  
  


_ Almost Present Day… _

A door opened with a tinkle from the chime. Looking up to see his new visitor, Joseph Joestar was greeted by the sight of the tallest hairdo he’d ever seen. And he’d lived through the 80s. “Hello?” asked the man in a thick French accent. “I am looking for witchfinder Joestar?”

Placing down the old comic book he was nostalgically reading, he stood to his full height. Just because he was going grey didn’t mean his body had given out. He was still rather bulky and firm, if he did say so himself. He spread his arms in welcome. “I am he.” He gave a wink. “And next you’re going to say, ‘I’m Jean Pierre Polnareff, newest witchfinder private’.”

“I’m Jean Pierre Polnareff, newest- what?!” Joseph chuckled to himself. They always reacted in the same way. He’d played the same trick on Avdol when they’d first met, after Joseph had been in Egypt to take care of some cursed objects found in a tomb. Avdol had become his go to when it came to the history and lore of all the weird things they fought. Sometimes, they’d have gotten it completely wrong and the monsters were nothing like legends said, but it was still incredibly useful to know approximately what he was getting into. Plus, Avdol was handy with a blade and knew all sorts of medicines.

Speaking of the man, he came through the back door when he heard the commotion. His eyes lit up when he saw the new recruit. “Hello there!” He strode forward to shake his hand. “You must be Polnareff, yes?”

“Uh - yeah, that’s me.” Polnareff was giving Avdol a weird look, almost like squinting. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

“Hm...” Avdol thought. “No, I think I would remember that hair. I have met plenty of Frenchmen in Cairo though. Maybe it was there.”

He shook his head. “No, never been.” Joseph cut in.

“Well this is all very interesting, but I think we should show our new private the ropes before we get into who’s met who or any of that.” He clapped a shoulder on Polnareff’s back. “And hey, maybe you’ve never met! Maybe it’s just destiny pulling you together. That’s what my granny Erina always used to say!”

Confused and baffled, Polnareff still followed the older man. He turned to Avdol. “Is he always like this?”

“Pretty much. Mohammad Avdol, by the way.” They grinned and shook hands.

“C’mon you two, don’t keep an old man waiting!” called Joseph.

“Coming!” Avdol yelled back. As the two dashed through the backdoor to reach him, Polnareff noticed an old portrait. It was of a newly wed couple, a young pretty blonde girl and the biggest man Polnareff had ever seen. It should be a happy image, but there was something sad about the girl’s eyes.  _ Maybe she was tired from standing there for hours, Polnareff _ thought.  _ That was probably it _ , he figured as he ran to catch up with Mr. Joestar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to write this chapter, and it ended up being a bit longer than usual. Oh well! At least it's here now. As it turns out, I've been using plain text instead of rich text accidentally, so now I'm going to go back and edit the old chapters to fix that.   
> I was rewatching the beginning of Phantom Blood, and was like 'Hey I forgot how good the beginning was' and that sort of inspired this. The Bruno flashback takes place during one of the many Ottoman Wars, specifically after the Island of Rhodes was attacked. Because I'm a history nerd, and yet it's probably still inaccurate. Leone is (obviously) during the Victorian Era, England. One of these days I'm going to write a long one-shot about Erina and her life because damn, girl had it rough and was still so strong throughout it. I attribute the Joestar tendency to be kind of a hardass post Jonathan to her and Lisa Lisa. Even if they were Joestars she didn't raise. That's how strong it is.   
> Avpol is such a wholesome ship. Even across lifetimes, they know each other by Pol's stupid hair. That being said, it's probably just gonna be platonic or implied here cause I'm lazy and writing one romance is already hard enough. It goes:  
> Me: Hey do you want to think about dynamics and chemistry and how these characters would develop  
> My brain: Just. Make them kiss. And write about how everyone loves Jonathan Joestar even if they're a bit of an ass.  
> Anyway, y'all know the drill. Comments good. Jonathan's arms good.


	7. Tarts and Childhood Trauma. My favorite.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some children find a new home, which they immediately make a mess of. Children are the worst (but also precious). Local friends who've been friends for millennia finally admit they like each other.

The angel currently known as Leone Abbacchio was driving with three new children sitting in the back of his (their) car.

It turns out younger humans can’t just be strapped into a car and be good to go. Apparently they need seats to lift them and keep them from being thrown around by the car’s momentum. Tonio had made a big fuss over strapping them in and saying goodbye while the brats were all jumping over him and not wanting to leave.

It took much longer than Leone would’ve hoped, but it’s fine because today is Sunday and it’s a free day. A holy day, even. He wonders if Bruno would find it funny if he started taking the kids to Sunday church. 

Currently, the orange boy is still crying about having to leave Tonio. Mista, the oldest one, is trying to pat his head and tell him it’s going to be okay. It’s moderately successful, as Narancia’s wails dissolve into equally loud but slightly more bearable sniffling. Fugo has hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms to glare at Abbacchio suspiciously. Leone felt a headache coming on. It had been hard enough to deal with one emotionally stunted child, and Giorno was mostly quiet. Maybe now he could convince Bruno to actually  _ use  _ his demonic charms to financially benefit them, now with three more mouths to feed.

By the time they pulled up into the driveway, Narancia had finally stopped crying completely.  _ That’s something I guess, _ mused Leone as he braced himself to unload the kids. Fortunately, they were more willing to get out than they had been getting in. Narancia in particular darted out so fast that Leone grabbed him by the arm in case he tried to run away. The boy whined, but didn’t protest under Leone’s stern glare.

Mista and Fugo trudged behind, seemingly not wanting to risk upsetting the large, scary man. Hopefully Bruno wouldn’t scare them  _ as _ much.

Speaking of whom, the demon opened the door as they approached, almost like he was expecting them. He grinned a grin that seemed a bit too large for a human. The kids watched him warily. “So you’re the ones I’ve heard so much about. Come in!”

Leone herded them in with a nudging of the hand and a stern look. The kids looked all mopey as they trudged in.  _ God, you’d think they were new inmates at a prison, the way they’re acting.  _ Bruno gave him a look that said  _ Be nice! _ As if presuming he hadn’t been nice on the way here! The nerve.

The kids took in their surroundings a bit more and started to relax. It was a two story home with only two rooms on the first floor (three if you counted the bathroom, and even then a kitchen and the living room were mostly connected. There wasn’t even a door between them! Bruno and Leone had had the argument about whether they were separate rooms time and time again. “They have fundamentally different purposes!” He’d said. “It’s not the same at all!” Bruno had just scoffed and kept quiet. Like he thought he knew he’d won. Bastard).

The interior was a nice pale green, with a suitably color coded viridian couch with a white and yellow blanket folded over it and lavender pillows. Leone had once posed as a painter back in the sixteenth century, so he had an eye for color.

He doubted the brats appreciated the complimentary colors, as Narancia immediately leapt on the couch, giggling with delight. Mista followed a bit slower and Fugo cautiously, not wanting to be left out. “Pillow fight!” declared Narancia as he seized a pillow and chucked it as Fugo. The white haired boy who was just getting on the couch snarled and launched himself instead of a pillow at Narancia. Mista yelped as they accidentally kicked up while they rolled around.

“Hey, knock it off!” snapped Abbacchio. The two froze. Narancia sheepishly put the pillow down and Fugo just sat there looking ashamed. Mista scooched away like he didn’t want to be associated.

“Oh, come now. Let them have some fun, dear.” Bruno said. Leone gritted his teeth at “dear”. He knew Bruno probably got a kick out of seeing the little gremlins be mischievous. So be it. If Bruno was going to be the “fun parent”, as the books he’d read called it, he would be the “fun sponge”. It shouldn’t be too hard. He’d already heard from Bruno that he was one, or at least told him things resembling the description of one.

Bruno began explaining the situation to the kids. “So your bedrooms are upstairs. You’re going to have to share. There are four rooms upstairs, two of which are ours.”

“Why don’t you share?” asked Mista honestly.

“Shut up! That’s a personal question!” hissed Fugo as he jabbed the other boy sharply.

Narancia raised his hand like he was in a classroom. “Yes, Narancia, right?” Bruno asked.

“If there’s four rooms… and you each have one, and three of us... ” He looked like he was trying to think very hard. “Then, wouldn’t one of us get a room alone?”

“Well, no. There’s someone else here.” Bruno explained. “In fact, Leone could you get him?” 

He peeked his head into the hallway and called up the stairs for Giorno. They’d told him some new people would be arriving, so hopefully he would be ready.

The boy hobbled down the steps, eyes bleary. His messy hair told Leone he’d been sleeping. “Your new roommates are here.” Giorno looked slightly more awake - and nervous - at that. Leone bent down to near his height. “You’ll be staying with one of them, so pay attention. If you don’t like who it is, we can always switch later.” And with a pat on the back, Giorno seemed ready enough to go into the living room. 

Three pairs of curious eyes looked at Giorno. He tried to hide behind Leone’s leg, but he scooped him up in his arms so the other boys could see. Giorno clutched tightly at his shirt. Leone let him. 

“This is Giorno,” He told the boys. “He’s six. And a bit shy.”

“Hi Giorno!” said Mista. “I’m Mista, and I’m eight. And that’s Fugo and Narancia. They’re six and seven.”

Narancia’s eyes lit up. “Hey! You and Fugo are the same age!” Fugo didn’t seem too interested in this revelation. Instead he looked over at Bruno.

“Why’s he so small?”

“Hm?” Bruno asked.

“Giorno. He’s small. Why?”

Leone didn’t know what the kid meant by that. “Some people grow later than others.” Bruno told him.

“Yeah Fugo!” exclaimed Narancia. “I’m small for seven too! Right? Tonio said so.”

“That’s cause you were so hungry. But why’s he small?” He full on glared at Leone now. Giorno huddled in more. He didn’t like accusatory tones.

Leone and Bruno exchanged a look. Giorno had eaten well the past month and a week, but he had indeed been very scrawny when he’d first come here. Such a direct question from a child made him uncomfortable.  _ Are all kids this blunt _ ? 

“Anyway, we should show you the rooms so you can choose where you want to sleep.” Bruno tried to move the conversation along. “Upstairs is this way.”

Narancia and Mista seemed eager enough to follow him, with Fugo grumbling reluctantly about his unanswered question. Leone sighed and looked down at GIorno who was clinging to him like a koala. “It’s okay. He didn’t mean anything by it.” The boy looked up at him, but remained still. “Come on, they’re going to look at your room too.”

**  
  
**

* * *

******  
  
**

In the time it took Leone to cross the threshold of the living room, the kitchen, and up the stairs, it appeared chaos had broken out. Apparently Narancia had tried jumping on Fugo’s back, and it went from there. Bruno quickly pulled them apart and currently had them each by the scruffs. 

They exchanged another look as Leone came into the room. They’d been doing that a lot lately. Maybe it was a marriage thing, like one piece of paper binding you legally to someone could also let you read their mind. And in this case, the thought they both had was  _ So not these two together _ .

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

In the end, they’d stuck Narancia in Giorno’s room and Mista with Fugo. The scruffy orange boy proved prone to fighting, especially with Fugo, who seemed like the type to ask prying questions, so no Giorno. So volatile Fugo had ended up with the seemingly calmest of the bunch, and Narancia with someone too mellow to fight. Thankfully Narancia seemed content to talk enthusiastically at Giorno rather than jump on him.

Giorno already had his own bed in an otherwise mostly bare room, so they set up an air mattress for Narancia. The other room had a bunk bed. Fugo immediately seized the bottom bunk, glaring at the ladder like he’d already fallen off of it. “Scared of heights?” Leone asked. He received a glare strong enough to rival his own and decided not to push it. Mista just shrugged and took the top bunk. 

As the kids got settled in, Bruno met Leone outside in the hallway. “So we might want to think about getting things for them.” began Bruno.

“What kind of things?”

“You know, toys, books, whatever kids like these days. School won’t start until September and the two of us can only be so entertaining.”

“Really? I seem to recall you being an  _ excellent _ magician.” Bruno groaned.

“Oh Lucifer’s tit don’t remind me. That was so  _ embarrassing _ .”

“No, no it was great! My favorite part was when the rabbit decided to make its droppings right on-”

“That’s enough of that. There are children here.”

“What? Last time I checked, Kids loved potty humor.” The demon scrunched up his face.

“It’s distasteful! I’m going to raise  _ my _ kids to have good taste.”

“And good morals?”

He flashed a smile. “If you do your job, perhaps they will. Oh, wipe that look off your face I’m not going to teach them to murder or anything.  Just pick a pocket or two. ”

“Aha! I heard that!”

“Joking again! Besides, I won’t need to encourage them.” He turned his face to the door conspiratorially, lowered his voice and went; “Children can be real bitches.”

“Hey. Language.”

“Prude. Besides, it’s true. Children simply lack the self awareness to think about how their actions affect others. That’s why they can live on in bliss and not have to think about the horrors of the world.” He paused. ‘Unless, of course, they’ve experienced it.“

Leone shook his head. “Don’t be like that, Just because they  _ reasonably _ don’t trust us doesn’t mean they’re going to be absolute terrors.”

Bruno blankly stared at him. “You saw those boys, right? Not even five seconds I looked away and bam! On top of each other like a pair of feral puppies. Mark my words, you’re going to regret your angelic kindness one of these days.”

He scowled. “We don’t exactly have much of a choice. This is the favor for Tonio keeping our association secret. We  _ need _ to keep under the radar.” 

“Ugh, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d just lied to him and said you’re spying on me!”

“I can’t  _ lie _ to him! He’s an archangel! Imagine if I was caught, I’d be burned in hellfire without question.” Leone scoffed. “Besides, don’t tell me I’m being too nice. You’re the one that agreed to it, and I saw how you looked at Giorno, and now these kids. You have a soft spot for them, don’t you?”

Bruno’s eyes widened. “No!  _ No _ . Absolutely not. Children suffering just… isn’t the kind of suffering I feed on. There’s no need for it. That’s all.” The angel rolled his eyes.

“Right. That’s  _ totally _ why you were just about ready to tear off that stepdad’s face. Pure indifference, right there.” 

Their conversation was cut off by the emergence of Giorno’s head through the door. He looked a little worried by their loud tones, so Bruno made sure to smile kindly. “What is it, Giorno?”

“Narancia wants to know if there’ll be dinner.” he explained. “He seems kind of worried about it.” Leone went over and opened the door to find that the blankets on the mattress had already been made a mess of. They were all twisted up with a conspicuous lump in them.

“Hey kid. Are you under there?” called Leone, trying to sound unintimidating.

A muffled “No!” could be heard from under the sheets. He walked over and tried to lift it off, only for the blanket to be yanked right back. 

“Okay then. I guess no one’s here.” He walked to the door, then turned around to make sure he heard. “But it’s a shame. We’re having pizza margherita for dinner too. It’d be a shame if we shared it with no one.” He said very loudly. He waited for a few seconds, before a small voice could be heard. 

“Really?” His scruffy black hair was visible from under the blankets. “You’re gonna feed us now? All the time?” Leone smiled.

“Yeah. Morning, noon and night. Three meals a day, all that. Don’t worry, I seriously doubt we’ll run out of food.” They went out to buy the occasional thing so as not to look suspicious (“And it tastes better if it’s natural!” Bruno had insisted. “Not really” he retorted, but then again, Bruno had always been the food snob between them), but it felt pretty pointless when you could just conjure up the same thing.

Narancia’s head came out a little more. “Can… can we have mushrooms on the pizza?”

“If you want.” He thought he saw a smile under the covers, though he couldn’t be sure. “We can make some just for you. That okay?”

“That’s great! Thanks Mr… uh, what was your name again?”

“Abbacchio. Just Abbacchio.”

“Right! Thanks Abbacchio!” A small smile crept its way onto Leone’s face. It instantly dropped off when he turned and saw Bruno smirking at him.

“What?” Giorno was also there, looking up at Leone in surprise. “What is it?”

“Dwaa, look at that, Giorno. Leone’s a big old softie.” He huffed, but didn’t want to refute that in earshot of his kids. THE kids, not his, he reminded himself.  _ Especially not Giorno. Don’t get attached to the Antichrist, for God’s sake, Leone. First the flaming sword and now this?! Can you not follow an order for once in your life? _ But then he saw Bruno laugh.  _ He has a nice laugh _ , thought his traitorous mind. And Giorno slowly, almost fleetingly, had a shy smile on his face. And his maybe-not-so-traitorous mind thought,  _ Or, you know. Maybe this isn’t so bad _ . **  
  
**

* * *

One week later, and it continued to not be that bad, even if Bruno had never really thought it was going to be awful to begin with. But he did come home one day, when Leone had worked a full day that day and he’d been out for just thirty minutes to get some stuff for the kids, and he came back to the kitchen being a complete mess.

Like the living room, the kitchen walls were a nice light green, while most of the sink and cupboards themselves were just dark grey. Which made the scattered flour on the counter and floor all the more noticeable.

He heard scurrying and noises of snickering and whimpering from behind the counter. Peeking around, Mista and Narancia were trying to contain their giggles next to a furious looking Fugo. Around the other corner, Giorno was huddled in fear. The four of them froze when they saw Bruno, and interrupted into yelling.

“It was their idea! I had nothing to-”

“Narancia was the one who spilled the flour!”

“Hey! Don’t sell me out like that!”

“It’s okay, all of you just calm down.” The three of them shut their traps, looking very guilty. “Now, what were you trying to do, and how did this happen?”

Fugo spoke up first. “Narancia said we should make something for you since you’ve been feeding us all the time. Giorno said it was a bad idea, but we - we ignored him.”

Mista cast the sympathetic look over at the crouched boy. “Yeah, sorry Giorno.” He shook his head. “But it was a good thing ya didn’t wanna help! That would’ve made four of us.” Looking around at the mess, he had a realization. “But… there were still four of us in the room! Oh no! That’s why it went wrong!”

Fugo sighed. “Not this again...”

“What’s ‘this’?” Bruno asked pointedly. The mess was no big deal. He could easily whisk it away with a single word, but he wanted to get a reading of the situation so this didn’t happen again.

“Mista thinks the number four is bad luck.” Narancia explained.

“It is!” the oldest boy insisted. “Like I told you-”

“So you were trying to bake,” Bruno cut him off. He could touch base on this tetraphobia later, but he didn’t want to get sidetracked. “Bake what?”

The three boys exchanged looks with each other. “We were gonna look at the cookbook and decide,” explained Fugo. “But I couldn’t find the right one, and  _ these _ idiots went ahead and tried to get the flour, and it exploded  _ everywhere _ .”

Narancia hung his head in shame. “Are you going to kick us out now?”

“What? No!” Bruno was surprised at the question. “What made you think that?”

The boy looked up, and Bruno could see he was nearly crying. “Just, just you’ve been givin’ us food, just like Tonio did. But that didn’t last, and no one does that without wanting something, so… I thought we oughta make food for you. So you wouldn’t throw us out.”

_ Oh. Well shit. _ Bruno reassessed the situation. Giorno had been very clearly hurt by the people supposed to take care of him, but it looked like these three never had someone to take care of them in the first place.  _ Stupid, Bruno! Why didn’t you realize the kids who lived on the street would also have mounds of issues! _

“Please don’t kick them out! It was a mistake!” cried Giorno, running out from behind the counter.

“Calm down. No one’s getting thrown out, and no one needs to pay us back for taking care of you.” he kept a strong tone, but tried not to sound harsh. “You’re children. You shouldn’t need to worry about things like that.” He leaned over to wipe a nearly formed tear from Narancia’s face. “In fact, once I clean this up, we could all try to make something together, if that would make you feel better.”

Narancia perked up a bit. “R-really?” he sniffed. Bruno gave the boy the best smile he could.

“Yes, I promise.”

Mista looked around and counted the people. “Giorno’s helping, right? There needs to be five of us, not four.”

“Of course he can. Giorno, are you okay?” The boy nodded. He looked a bit frazzled by the whole thing, but the worry in his face was going away.

Fugo looked at his flour covered shirt and frowned. “Should we help clean up? What about our clothes?” Bruno thought about it.  _ They should be young enough for a magic trick, right? _

“Don’t worry about it. In fact, I’ll show you something cool. Go stand over in the doorway and close your eyes.” They moved over with varying levels of eagerness, Giorno joining them last despite being closest. “Okay, ready?” And with a simple will, the flour swirled back in the back, from the floor, the counter, even from all over the boy’s shirts, into the bag which sealed itself up. The kitchen was completely spotless, all pale green and grey without a hint of white.

“Done! You can open your eyes now!” They opened their eyes in shock to the completely clean kitchen.

“Woah, how’d you do that!” Mista exclaimed. Bruno winked, and he normally felt very silly winking, but he felt a bit silly anyways.

“Maybe you’ll learn when you’re older/ Maybe not.”

“Aw!” Bruno laughed as they tried to hound him for more information.

“So, would you like to help me make a tart?” Narancia cocked his head.

“What’s that?”

“It’s kind of shaped like a pie, but the inside is kind of a custard.” He ruffled Narancia’s hair. The boy hissed at the contact, but he looked more embarrassed than hurt. “It tastes really good. You’ll see.”

He brought out all the ingredients himself, and laid out the cookbook with the recipe. He let Giorno and Narancia put flour on the dough and take turns rolling it out a bit, though he took it upon himself to form the actual crust in the pan. After Fugo reassured him he could measure out the milk, sugar, and vanilla bean, he let him and Mista pour them in while he boiled the filling.

Bruno broke the eggs and boiled the filling, but he let them mix it a bit and pour it into a bowl for cooling. It was minimal assistance, but they seemed happy just to contribute. While he let the tart bake in the oven, he told the kids to go upstairs and entertain themselves. He was tired enough from the baking, so he simply miracled up dinner tonight with everyone out of sight.

* * *

****  
  


When Leone came home (home, what a strange word to call this house), he found a demon lounging on the couch with a book and the smell of something pleasant in the oven.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked. They took turns cooking dinner (or just materializing it) but rarely did either of them bake.

He looked up his book. “The kids made a mess in the kitchen, so I cleaned up and invited them to help me make something. It’s a tart, by the way.”

“Sounds great.” Leone was too tired to make any sharp barbs.  _ Curse this flesh prison. Causing me back pain and weird unexplained bruises for no reason. _

“Oh, and Leone?”

“Yeah?”

“About the kids, they, uh - Well, just always let them know they’re welcome, and this is their home now, okay?” Leone frowned.

“Did something happen?”

“I guess, you could say it’s always been happening. Just… remember where you found them, is all I’m asking.”

“Okay,” he settled down next to him on the couch. It felt weirdly domestic, which is probably how he would describe the next five years. “And you called me a big softie. You hypocrite.”

“Oh, shove it.” Bruno couldn’t help but smile. “We can  _ both _ admit we like these little rascals, alright?”

“Eh, I guess they’re cute if you squint.”

“Keep telling yourself that. You’ll have adopted six more children before I know what happened.”

“Keep that up and I just might do it to spite you.” Bruno stretched out on the couch. He looked relaxed, truly relaxed, for the first time since Leone had seen him enter his office six years ago.

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind that. Maybe” Bruno admitted.

“Ha, what happened to ‘all children are bitches’?” 

“Language, angel! And how dare you call  _ our _ children bitches?”

“Hey, you said it first.” Bruno playfully shoved him.

“Oh come on, you know I like you too.” A pause.

“Bruno?”

“Yeah?”

“I like you too.” 

The silence that followed should’ve been awkward, but the angel and the demon found it rather peaceful. Bruno stood up from the couch. “We should get the kids for dinner.”

“Yes, let’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter seems a bit shorter to me, but that might be because it's a lot of dialogue. Here's some nice fluff to relax after that last chapter full of flashbacks. Next time; Grumpy buff young man meets other buff men to his great reluctance. Two immortal beings who probably should be omniscient but are too lazy realize they hyucked up.


	8. The Arrival of a New Recruit, a Dog, and the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jotaro regrets his choices. Giorno makes a crab. A revelation is had, and a girl gets a dog.

_ Five Years Later... _

The last time Jotaro Kujo had been to England, he’d been eleven. Ten years later, it looked no different from what he remembered. Cold and rainy.

He sighed as he remembered what had persuaded him to come.  _ Come one Jotaro, it's good experience! _ His mother Holly had insisted.  _ You want to specialize in underwater ruins, right? Your grandpa goes all over, and he’ll be glad for the extra help! _ What Jotaro had thought was reasonable was a year abroad where he could stay with his grandparents, or near them since he wasn’t a child anymore and could  _ absolutely _ pay for an apartment no matter what Holly insisted.

But this witchfinder business seemed sketchy as all hell. He scowled at the recruitment papers in English Holly had shown him.  _ Join the Witchfinder Army! Hunt the forces of darkness! _

He shouldn’t be surprised. It seemed his grandpa was just as nutty as he’d remembered, and his mother was his daughter, after all.  _ Whatever. If I can just do some intern work for… whatever this is, I can hopefully get through this year in peace. _

He was currently taking a cab from the airport to where his grandpa’s “office” was in London. Looking out, he had to admit the scenery wasn’t half bad. The English countryside was nothing but rolling green hills and the occasional pasture of lazy cows.  _ At least it’s not New York _ . He remembered visiting his Nonna Suzie there and being overwhelmed by the loud noises and sheer amount of people in one place.

He hoped Londoners would be more quiet. Cities weren’t his thing to begin with, and loud cities were even worse.

As they began to reach the city itself, he found himself observing the architecture. Everything was tall and pressed together, as if instead of tearing down old buildings, the people had simply gone on building.  _ That’s probably exactly what happened, _ he thought to himself. It reminded him of seeing a shrine in the Japanese suburb. It was old and modern at the same time. So far, so good. 

He got dropped off in front of one of these narrow buildings, pressed in between all sorts of various shops and apartments. Checking the address, it seemed to be the right place. Grumbling again, he began to drag his luggage up the flights of stairs. Thankfully, he was a big man and he’d packed lightly, so it wasn’t terribly hard.

Finding a door with a plaque engraved with  _ Joseph Joestar _ , he took a deep breath, readied himself, and knocked.

The door was opened, but not by an old man. Instead, there was another Japanese guy, young looking, if not around his own age. He had bright red hair and wore a green button. He looked at Jotaro in surprise. “Can I help you?” He had a slight accent

“I’m looking for Joseph Joestar. Are you Japanese?” He looked surprised.

_ “Yes,” _ he answered in Japanese.  _ “ I’m Kakyoin. And you are?” _

_ “The name’s Jotaro Kujo.”  _ He said back.  _ “Joseph's grandson.” _

_ “Oh, that’s you! He didn’t say you would be Japanese _ . _ ”  _ Kakyoin observed his tall stature. Needless to say, it was not from his father’s side of the family.

_ “My mom’s his daughter. Taught me English. I’m taking a year abroad, and she thought it was genius to have me come work for him.”  _ He rolled his eyes thinking about it. _ ”And you?” _

_ “My family moved here when I was a teen.”  _ he explained.  _ “It was for work. We already traveled a lot because of it, so I knew enough English to get by.”  _ He fiddled with the cuff of his shirt, seemingly wanting to cut the topic short. Jotaro couldn’t blame him. He hated when complete strangers pried.

Their conversation was interrupted by a man nearly as tall as Jotaro, if only because of the hair. “Mon ami Kakyoin!” he exclaimed, bursting through. “I heard you speaking Japanese. Who is this tall man?”

Kakyoin calmly turned towards the Frenchman. “Polnareff, this is Jotaro. He’s Joseph’s grandson he was telling us about. Jotaro, this is Polnareff.” 

“Pleased to meet Joseph’s family! That man’s been good to me with the paycheck.” he chortled as he shook Jotaro’s hand enthusiastically. Great. A loud one. He’d heard French people liked to mind their own business, but he couldn’t be that lucky, now could he? “Come, come! We’ll show you around!” Polnareff ushered him into the witchfinder office.

It was a messy place, boxes of stuff left unopened all shoved to the far left side and a desk covered in papers and files on the right. The wall behind it was filled with old looking equipment, including muskets, pointy contraptions, and some actual swords. Another wall had what looked like framed certificates hung in a row. Looking closer, they said things like “Witchfinder Private” and “Witchfinder Colonel”. 

“Ah, there he is!” Jotaro turned to see another man almost his height (he dwarfed nearly everyone he knew back home, so it was something he often took note of). The last time he’d seen this man, not all of his hair had gone grey, but he still wore the same ridiculous hat. Joseph’s arms squeezed him in a tight hug, showing the sixty-something year old was still in shape. 

“God, you’ve gotten so big! And yet, still the same as I remember.” Jotaro grunted vaguely in protest at the hug, but there was no use struggling. Joseph released him and grinned. “So Jotaro! How’s your mother been? Is she bored of Japan yet?”

That’s _ the first thing you ask!?  _ He knew Holly mentioned Joseph missed his family, but seriously? “More than twenty years, Jiji. She’s still not bored.”

His grandfather laughed heartily and clapped him on the shoulder. “I know, I know. Eh, worth a shot. Also, what’s ‘Jiji’? You can just call me Gramps, grandson.” Jotaro chose to ignore that.

“So what am I going to be doing here?” He just wanted to get this over with and find a bed somewhere. He was jet lagged as shit. 

“Aw, c’mon! Let me show you around the place! Introduce you to Avdol!” Jotaro groaned internally. 

Thankfully, Kakyoin came to his rescue. “Uh, Mr. Joestar, forgive me for saying but I’m sure Jotaro is very tired right now. It’s a long flight from Japan to England. It might be better to catch him up and everything tomorrow, when he’s well rested.” Jotaro doubted that even one night of sleep would be enough.    
  


Joseph sighed. “All right, fine! But in case you’re wondering, that’s Avdol over there.” he gestured to a framed picture of the Witchfinders. Joseph, Kakyoin, and Polnareff were there with a dark skinned man wearing a red coat. They looked somewhere cold and mountainous.

“Great, so where do you live, Jiji? I’m supposed to stay with you.” He was regretting this situation the more he said it to himself out loud.

Joseph scratched his head. “Well, not that Suzie and I wouldn’t love to have you, but it’s been a bit, um… rough lately. And I don’t want to welcome you to England over the sound of us bickering!” He passed by Jotaro and opened a door on the other side of the room. “So here! We set up a spare room. Even better, you can get some sleep right away!”

It was pretty clearly an old storage room. Shelves had been pushed to the side, with many disassembled parts on top of them. Shoved in the other corner was a bed with some kind of quilt draped over it. There was a window over it, but no blindfolds or shades on it. Walking in, he could see a dresser put on the opposite wall from the bed. There wasn’t that much free room what with the shelves and all, made worse by Jotaro’s general stature. 

Joseph seemed to realize this looking around. “Eh, might be a bit small, but if you need a bigger bed, that can be arranged!” He shook his head. This was all so exhausting.

“It’s fine. I’ll take it. See you all tomorrow. Or whenever I wake up.” Joseph and Polnareff looked disappointed, but relented. Kakyoin just nodded sympathetically. 

“Get some rest, Jotaro.” He reassured him. “It’ll be of no use if we explain everything to you and you don’t even remember. Joseph’s a good boss, despite how rowdy he seems.”

“Hey!” Joseph protested. “C’mon Kakyoin, give me some credit here!” They laughed and left Jotaro to shut the door and try to fall asleep. 

He plopped on the bed. He’d slept on high-raised beds before, but it was still a weird feeling. He bent his knees to more easily fit into the bed. The window with no shades was letting pale gray light from the cloudy sky, making it even harder. Eventually, he took the mattress and put it on the floor with the quilt over it. He buried his head under the pillow to block out the sun. The only thing he took off was his coat and shoes, letting his hat rest next to him on the bed. **  
  
**

* * *

Many miles away, in a seemingly unrelated space, an unusual boy was about to have his tenth birthday.

He was out with his friends. They were down by the beach, looking for shells and crabs in the rocky incline coming down to the beach. None of them planned to keep any shells or crabs they found. Abbacchio had told them it was illegal, after all. And he solves crimes for people, so he couldn’t be wrong.

On this weekend, they were all itching to be outside. School only had a month or two to go, and weekends teased the freedom they would soon have. Giorno was looking at the waves, staring at the way they flowed in and out. Suddenly he heard a yelp from behind him. Narancia had stuck his hand down into the space between two rocks and came out with a crab dangling off his hand. He shook it around, trying to get the creature off.

“Hey, don’t throw it off yet!” cried Mista. “Let me see!” He leapt down from his position higher up on the rocks. Fugo, who was also looking near Narancia, looked up. He flung the crab off his friend’s hand, much to Mista’s protest. Giorno saw it scuttle away into the dark again.

“Thanks Fugo, that really hurt!” Fugo rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t want crabs to pinch you, don’t stick your hand into random places on the beach!”

“But how are we gonna find any crabs otherwise?” Mista was still disappointed about not getting to see it up close. He pouted and crossed his arms. Giorno decided to speak up.

“Hey, maybe we can play something else. I bet we scared all the crabs off with our yelling.”

Mista scuffed up Narancia’s hair. “Nice going, man! You scared them away!”

“Do crabs even have ears?” Fugo looked thoughtful. “Can they even hear us?”

“Dunno. Don’t care.” Narancia hopped off his rock down to Giorno. “So, what should we play?”

“Hmm,” He hadn’t really thought about it. “How about… one of us pretends to be a monster and we chase them?”

“Like a reverse tag?” asked Mista. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Wait, that’s really unfair!” Narancia insisted. “It’s three against one here!”

“For once, Narancia is right.” said Fugo.

“For once?!”

Giorno thought about this more. “Okay, here’s how we’ll do it. Whoever the monster is will be able to tag us too. And if that person gets tagged, they need to sit down. That gives the monster and extra life. If they get tagged when someone’s sitting down, that person will get up and the monster will still be around. And if two people are sitting down, it’s two tags before they’re taken out. So, whoever gets the other first wins.” He looked around at his friends. “Who wants to go first?”

“I’ll do it.” Mista volunteered. “I’m the oldest, so I need to be the one who sees if these new games are any fun.”

“But that’s unfair too!” whined Narancia. “He’s older and stronger, how’re we gonna outrun him?”

Fugo nudged him. “You heard what Giorno said. We can tag him too. And you’re really fast Narancia. We can do this.” Looking more confident. Narancia nodded.    
  
“Yeah! Watch it Mista, we’re coming for you!”

* * *

**  
  
**

In the end, the group had declared the game fun and that it could stay. They’d played several rounds, with Mista, then Fugo, then Narancia being the monster. Giorno got tagged a lot because of his shorter legs, but he didn’t mind. They liked it, which was what mattered.

“What should we call it?” asked Mista.

“Huh?”

“All good games need a name. If we want to do it again, we can’t just be like ‘let’s play that game again’. We’ll all be like ‘which one?’ and have to explain it again.” Fugo and Narancia nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we could call it Werewolf?” suggested Fugo. “Because it can also tag us, like werewolves can turn people into them.”

Mista shook his head. “Nah, the people the monster tags just sit down. They don’t become a monster too.”

“Um, Hunter then?” said Narancia.

“Monster Hunter?” added Giorno.

Mista grimaced, “I think there’s a game already called that. Don’t want to be unoriginal.”

“Ooh! It’s kind of like a witch hunter then.” They turned to look at Fugo. “Witches would curse you and make your life hard. And people in old times would have to hunt them down. But then it turned out most of them were innocent women who -”

“We got it Fugo!” Mista cut him off. “Witch Hunter sounds like a pretty good name to me.”

“How’d ya know all that stuff anyway, Fugo?” Narancia leaned hard on his friend’s shoulder. 

He looked away. “I read about it.” he mumbled.

“He! Nerd!” Fugo glared at him and shoved him off. “Ouch! Jerk!”

Mista quickly walked between them before they fought again. “Hey, it’s getting late.” Currently, it was sunset. The water looked orange and red and navy where it wasn’t. Giorno wanted to look at it more, but he knew they should get back.

“That was fun but...” Narancia looked down, dejected. “The only crab we found pinched me! I guess crabs just really hate me now.” Giorno felt the same feeling in his stomach he felt sometimes when he saw Buccellati take someone’s wallet - guilt. He’d been the one to suggest going here to look for crabs and Narancia had been really excited.

“Wait, I think I saw one back there. I can get it really quickly.” He turned and looked through the rocks without waiting for an answer. 

He heard Mista say, “It’s fine, man. We can come another day.” But Giorno had already found the perfect rock. Only a little smaller than his palm, he held it gently, and thought about a crab. He’d seen them in books and on TV in documentaries that Abbacchio secretly liked that Buccellati teased him for liking. It had ten scuttling legs and beady eyes. He felt the sensation of little legs on his hand, and looked down to see a solid, red crab. 

“Here.” He turned to show it to the gang. Their eyes widened.

“Woah!” said Narancia. “How’d you get it not to pinch you?”

Giorno shrugged. “I was nice to it. And quiet. I guess they can hear.” The three of them gawked at it a bit, Fugo asking what kind of species it was and Mista poking its shell. Narancia didn’t want to get close to it after being pinched.

“Okay, it really is getting late now. I’ll put it back.” Giorno could sense the crab felt distressed at the stranger poking its shell. He didn’t want Mista to get pinched. Turning around, he placed the crab in a crevice between two rocks. It reverted back to its own rock, clunking into the sand below. “There. It’s gone.” And they started to walk home.

Buccellati trusted them to get home safely. Abbacchio did not, but they did most days. It’s not like they went very far. The beach was in sight of their house. As they walked back up to it, Mista asked him a question. “Hey Giorno, you’re gonna be ten soon, right? Double digits and everything?” Mista was already twelve. “So what do you want for it? It’s a pretty special birthday, after all.”

He thought about it. He’d never had many wants after being taken in by Abbacchio and Buccellati. Most years he got some new clothes and books and a cake. There was nothing special he wanted.

“Ooh! You should ask for a dog, Giorno! I’ve been begging for one forever!” Narancia pouted. “Abbacchio said he didn’t need another thing to worry about, but we would take care of it. Right Fugo?”

Fugo looked doubtful. “We’re at school most days. We can’t take care of it all the time.”

“Let’s aim for something more realistic.” Mista added. “Preferably not alive. Sorry Narnacia, but cats are the bomb.”

“They are not! What about the one that scratched me?”

“You picked it up suddenly, you were asking for it! Plus that kind of badassery is what I respect about cats.” 

Giorno frowned. “You shouldn’t swear. And there’s really nothing I want in particular.”

“Nothing? Really?”

“Yeah.” He felt like he was disappointing him. “All I can ask is that I get to stay here, with Buccellati and Abbacchio.”

“Wow. Lame.” Narancia huffed. “I would’ve asked for a dog.”

* * *

**  
  
**

Jotaro had woken up the next afternoon to Polnareff looking concerningly at his sleeping decisions.

“Is the bed really that bad that you decided to sleep on the floor? We can find you a bigger one, I promise!”

“It’s fine.” Jotaro brushed him off. “I’m used to it, remember?” Joseph was going to give him a proper introduction to his job today.

Speaking of which, the old man was eager to get started. “Jotaro! Hope you’ve slept well, because I have a lot to tell you today!”

“Great.” He adjusted his hat. “Get on with it.” Joseph ignored his rudeness and began by gesturing to the strange weapons on the wall.

“These are ancient witchfinder tools. By which I mean, they’re about seven hundred to two hundred years old. Some of em still work in fact! Like this one.” He pulled off what Jotaro remembered being a musket. “Nothing inside it, thankfully. Dunno if they even sell ammo for it anymore. Oh well! It’s pretty outdated anyway.” He tossed it on his desk. “I’m more of a sword and dagger fellow myself.” He showed off a medieval looking sword covered in a sheath, also mounted on the wall.

“Great, What about my actual job?” He was getting insistent.

“Jotaro, you have to first learn the tools of the trade! Now this one...” Jotaro tuned out, just a little bit. This was going to be a long day…

* * *

**  
  
**

“And that’s all about the time I shot a vampire dead with a tommy gun! Cool, huh?” Joseph finally seemed to be coming to the end of his bragging about his glory days, much to his relief.

“Thought you were a sword and dagger guy.” His grandpa looked happy that he remembered.

“I am now, but in my younger days I went for the flashier methods. But keeping a gun these days comes with a whole set of problems and paperwork, which I’m already doing for all these old relics here. Also bloodthirsty monsters don’t really use guns, so it’s not some huge disadvantage.” he yammered away.

“So, my job? I still need to attend school, Jiji. I don’t think I have time to be sent all over the world to kill vampires or whatever it is you do.”

“Right!” he snapped his fingers. “There’s nothing of that sort you’ll have to do. True, as a witchfinder private, we’ll make sure you can handle yourself. But for now, you’ll just be reading reports and highlighting anything that looks supernatural and anything that’s just baloney. Not many people take us seriously, you know. Lots of phonies.”

_ Wow, I wonder why? _ Jotaro did not care much about what rabies infected creature the people here could pass off as monsters. He just needed to get through reading through people’s reports of an overactive imagination and focus on his studies. Which unfortunately, wouldn’t start for another month or two. His mom wanted him to get sorted in first and get used to the city before he went to school with its residents. He resented agreeing to this more every moment he stayed here. At least Kakyoin, and even Polnareff with his 80s hair seemed normal enough. Maybe they were just working here for some extra cash as well. 

“Also, now that you’re awake, I should introduce you to Avdol. Over here.” He gestured him into a side room off of the hallway. Sitting at a desk, significantly neater than Joseph’s, was the man he’d seen in the photo yesterday. He looked up at them with a friendly smile.

“Ah, Mr. Joestar! This is your grandson, yes?” Again, he had an accent. Jotaro wondered if foreigners were the only people Joseph could persuade to join his crazy group. Avdol looked fairly inviting, wearing a wool sweater and a red scarf. He stood up and extended his hand to Jotaro. “Muhammad Avdol. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Another set of hands is always welcome around here.”

“Thank you.” As much as Jotaro disliked his current situation, there was no need to be rude to someone trying to be polite. Why go through all the trouble if others would just stomp on it?

“As you can see, I do a lot of information research here.” He gestured to his wall, where a corkboard with lots of photos and papers were hung up. It was much more organized than those chaotic conspiracy boards you always saw with red lines. The papers were hung in columns, all under a different category. “So you’ll be seeing quite a bit of me, since you’re reading through reports. Kakyoin and I used to alternate doing that, but now we have you. Don’t worry, we won’t dump it all on you. Kakyoin’s still there to help out. But really, thank you.” He shook his hand again. “This frees up so much time for me, it really is a lifesaver.”

“It’s not a problem. Where should I get started?” Avdol looked through a few folders, reading the tabs on them. 

“Here! This one’s recent. Multiple reports over several years too! Plenty to work with.” He handed several files to Jotaro.

“So… where can I read these?”

“Sadly, we don’t have a desk for you.” Joseph apologized. “But since this case has more than one file, and it’s your first, I figured you could work with Kakyoin.” He pointed across the hall. “His office is over there. Name’s there and everything.”

“Then I’ll go there now.” He marched over, ready to see what kind of nonsense this was. Kakyoin was on a laptop, typing away at something. He stopped when he noticed Jotaro.

“Hello there. You need something?” Jotaro dumped the files down on his desk. He pulled up a chair from the corner. It was cushioned and looked like it was for visitors.

“Joseph said I was reading through reports. And that you should help me for now.” He grabbed the file marked “1” and opened it. “So, I guess we should get started.”

“Alright then.” Kakyoin didn’t seem too startled to suddenly have his objective shifted, and grabbed another file. “Let’s get to it.”

* * *

Bruno always felt a tinge of anxiety around Giorno’s birthday. It was a reminder of what might come in three years. Of a snarling hellhound appearing on their door. Bruno had never liked dogs much. They shed and drooled everywhere. He would’ve thought Leone shared his distaste, but the angel was surprisingly okay with them.

“Big dogs are fine. Most of them are docile, unless they’re some snarling guard dog. It’s the small ones that are true demons.” He snickered. “Watch, that hellhound’s going to be some feral Chihuahua thing. Cats are the ones that bother me. Always scratching at my stuff. And their eyes look like snakes too.”

“Aren’t you supposed to love all God’s creatures or something?” Bruno had asked him. He decided to ignore the snake eyed comment. It couldn’t be helped. They were still an angel and a demon.

“Well yeah, in theory. But God also made free will and opinions, so there.” He’d been a bit tipsy, otherwise he’d never dare say these things. “And who makes something like mosquitoes and expects everyone to love them? No one with a physical body, that’s who.”

Bruno chuckled at the memory, when a ringing sound came from the kitchen. The phone. He rose from the couch he’d been reminiscing on to answer it. “Hello? Buccellati here.”

“Bruno, good to hear you again.” He froze where he stood. 

“Risotto. It’s been a while.”

“No time for catching up, I’m afraid. There’s a bit of news you should be aware of.” The other demon’s deep voice crept into his ear like a wriggling snake. The irony was not lost on him. “You’re the one looking after the Antichrist child, yes? Making sure they grow up right?”

“Yes, that’s me. I’m honored the Boss trusts me enough to do it.” He’d only told his superiors about watching over the child, he’d never mentioned the more… direct approach he’d taken. Or that he was doing it with an angel.

“Seems you’ve been doing a better job than expected. It seems the child’s development has rapidly sped up. In fact, we’ve determined they’re ready for the hellhound sooner rather than later. On their tenth birthday instead of their thirteenth.” He could almost hear the grin that was certainly spreading on Risotto’s face. “And with it, Armageddon seems to be coming sooner as well. Excellent job, Bruno.”

Bruno stood there, not trusting himself to say anything. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You did it. The Boss is looking pleased with himself right now.”

“I heard you, it’s just - so soon? It’s a shock. I was prepared for three more years, and now I have to get ready in just a few days? Don’t worry, I’m fully prepared to take up arms again. Fully willing. No regrets here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to start preparing.” And he hung up.

_ Shit, that was stupid! He’s going to think something is up. _ He gripped the edge of the counter.  _ I have to tell Leone. _

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

A few days later, Giorno got a chocolate cake for his tenth birthday. The rest of the gang cheered and begged to dive in, but Abbacchio told them they had to wait for it after dinner and made them start setting the table. Giorno could see the worry in their faces. Worry directed at him. Sometimes Giorno had seen them giving him similar looks, but never this bad. They spent a lot of time looking out the window and whispering to each other. Dread formed in Giorno’s heart. Were they finally getting rid of him? Had he been too to deal with much over the years? He’d always worried about that, but reassured himself it was silly. Now though, he wasn’t so sure.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

“Where’s the damn dog?” hissed Leone, sneaking a glance out the window. “It should be here by now!” Bruno could feel his hands being very clammy. They were so clammy they almost couldn’t hold the cell phone when he got another call.

“Bruno. Do you see it yet?” This wasn’t Risotto, but his right hand demon, Prosciutto (By Satan, even his and Leone’s names weren’t that bad with the food names!). 

“It’s yet to show up. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you mean. It was meant to arrive at 6 pm sharp, and it’s five minutes past. Get your act together! You’re the one we have to thank for all this, don’t fuck it up now.”

Bruno paused. And then realized something. Hanging up, he turned to Leone. “Angel,” he began. “You ever think Giorno is… too normal?”

“Too normal? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s never shown any signs of powers or even wickedness. Hell, he’s the most controlled of our kids next to Mista!”

“So what? Lucifer was an angel too, remember?”

“Yes, but Leone.  _ There’s no dog _ .” The realization seemed to dawn on the angel.

“So what you’re saying is...”

“We have the wrong kid.”

**  
  
**

* * *

****  
  


Some time away, but not as far as you would think, Trish Una was watching her mother being washed and prepared for a coffin. Her grandparents were there with her, trying to stop her from looking to no avail. Trish wanted to remember the last time she saw her mother. 

Her sickness had been sudden and unforgiving, especially for a woman of her age and health. Donatella Una had not been a religious woman, but it was out of the question where she would be buried. Trish didn’t go to the synagogue often, though her grandparents always tried to get her mother to take her. “Not even on Shabbat, Dona? At least let us take her on Shabbat.” Her mom would sigh and relent. Trish didn’t understand most of what was said, something her grandmother scowled at when she told her and proceeded to chew her mother out for, but the people there were nice to her and she liked the food they had after.

Now, looking at her mother, she wondered if she could ever enjoy it without feeling sad.

Trish had turned ten a few weeks ago. Once again, she’d asked for a puppy. Once again, her mother had refused. It was too much work, and they had no room. Trish sniffed a little, remembering how one of the last things she got to do with her was argue. She looked to her grandparents. They were old for sure, but Donatella being a young mother meant both of them were only around sixty. She wondered if they would take care of her now.

“Come dear, you don’t need to see this.” Her grandma tugged her hand and led her away. Trish didn’t argue. She was tired of arguing. There’d been a very odd feeling in her chest the past week, like she’d taken a deep breath and hadn’t quite breathed out yet. 

To stop from being sad, she did what she always did. Visualize what kind of dog she wanted. Trish wanted a little dog, partly because of how little room they had and partly because they were cute. But many small dogs were also energetic and yappy. At least, she’d read that. She’d also read that the Queen of England really liked dogs, especially corgis. When she had seen them, she knew they were perfect. Corgis were small, and their stubby legs probably meant they didn’t need that much exercise. Plus, the queen liked them. What could be better than an endorsement from the queen?

Her grandma had tugged her away from the crowd. They received sorrowful looks, but no one said anything to stop them. Trish decided to stare blankly into the nearby trees that surrounded the graveyard. She stopped when she suddenly heard a snarling. “What’s that?” she asked.

“What’s what?” Her grandmother didn’t seem to hear it. But Trish could see it now, a shape coming out of the trees. It was short, and had stubby legs, and maybe she was just seeing it from a distance, but were its teeth bared? She looked up at her grandma again. No reaction. She tried calling out to it. It felt right. “Here, uh...” What should its name be? She had never thought about it. Oh wait! That was a good one. “Here Princess! Here girl!” It was liked by the queen, so of course it should be called Princess.

Her grandma looked at her oddly, but the dog was running towards her, teeth no longer out. She opened her arms to it, which the corgi eagerly dashed into. Corgis were faster than she thought. Her grandma stared at her in amazement. “Who’s dog is that? Where did it come from?”

Trish giggled as Princess licked her cheek. She felt a bit better, and a sigh of relief left her body. “Her name is Princess, Grandma. And she’s mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great! It took me eight chapters to get where the show is at the end of the first episode. Now it's time to get to the really juicy bits. Next time, Abbacchio and Buccellati get a dog whether they like it or not.


	9. Fools and Newbies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leone and Bruno panic. Jotaro gets his first taste of having an impossible sleep cycle. Joseph doesn't crash the plane for once. Leone and Bruno get a book recommendation.

“What are we going to do, Bruno? Who knows where the real Antichrist is, and we have even less time now according to you -“

“Calm down. We can figure this out.” Bruno was currently pacing back and forth in front of Leone on the couch. The kids were - well, should - be fast asleep right now. They’d both agreed to put off the discussion so wouldn’t them on Giorno’s birthday. Speaking of Giorno…

“So what’s Giorno’s deal then?! I know he’s not normal, you feel that too! But if he’s not the Antichrist, then what is he?!” Leone dug his fingers into his hair. “Is he just an occasionally creepy child? I don’t believe that for a second!”

Bruno snapped his fingers. “Wait, Leone. Do you remember the night Giorno was born?”

Leone laughed bitterly. “How could I forget?”

“Don’t you remember the weird feeling we both got? Not just from Japan, but from Italy.” 

“So you’re telling me we assumed the Antichrist would be born in a place with almost no Christians, rather than the _literal headquarters of the Catholic Church?!_ ” The angel swore under his breath. “God, how stupid can we get? How’re we gonna find the right child now?”

Bruno rubbed his temples. “Can we even assume they’re still in Italy? There was a strong presence on the night both of them were born, but it settled into stillness after that.” He frowned. “What about Giorno, then? There was still something there when we visited him in the hospital. How do we explain that?”

Leone sank back in despair. “Great! Another mystery on our hands! It just keeps getting better.” His forehead wrinkled in thought. “I could try using the spy glasses of Heaven, all seeing and all that, but it’s risky. I’m a Principality. A field agent. If I need to know something, I ask the ones who handle them. But I can’t let anyone know we’ve messed up.”

Bruno stopped pacing. “Well, there is another source of information we could look for. But there’s no guarantee it will say anything.”

“What is it? Whatever it is, I’ll take it.” Bruno grimaced.

“A long time ago, there was a witch with a genuine power of foresight. Not a fake or a magician, but a real prophet. She wrote a book called _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Enya the Hag_ . Wasn’t very popular. Only sold a couple of copies which have been lost over the years. No one knew the true value of it. But I’ll bet you it has _something_ about the end of the world in it.”

If the angel’s wings were out, they would be puffed up in outraged confusion. “Do you even know where we can find one? If they’re as rare as you said, doesn’t that seem very risky to bet on?”

“Maybe. But what else do we have? If it’s meant to predict the future, I think Armageddon is a pretty impactful event to know about.”

Leone stood up and took a deep breath. “Okay. Where can we start looking?”

* * *

Jotaro’s first case consisted of reports of an odd pair in Naples, Italy. Sightings of two strange men slinking around, sometimes talking, sometimes ignoring each other. One of the men was apparently a private eye, but it was largely unknown what they did, even after years of people seeing them. After a while, people noticed a child trailing after them. Then, they were suddenly gone one day after almost six years of odd sightings.

Most of the residents didn’t think twice about it. Two shady strangers loitering around public spaces wouldn’t be missed. But some descriptions of strikingly similar men out in the suburbs, now seen walking with four children, still came in.

To Jotaro it sounded like a bunch of nosy bastards being disturbed by the idea of a gay couple with children. He told as much to Kakyoin, who just shrugged.

“That could be the case. But their behavior doesn’t sound very couply, aside from the kids. Even if it’s not supernatural, it could still be something shady.”

“And what do we do then?” he questioned. “If suspicious behavior turns out to just be criminal activity, what do you do? Go in guns blazing?”

“No. We don’t use guns, for one.” He flipped through the next folder. “We give the evidence to the police sometimes. But most people don’t take us seriously anyway. Either way, there are far more people whose job is to deal with that than what we do.” He laughed. “One time as a young man, Mr. Joestar had some unpaid debt to some American mobsters. It was a whole thing. After that he decided that the witchfinder duty was exempt from petty crime. So no mafiosi for us, unfortunately.”

Jotaro sighed in relief. Getting into actual trouble because someone mistook a drug deal for some satanic ritual would probably ruin his education.

He noticed Kakyoin had picked up a large leather bound book and was currently browsing through it. “What’s that?”

He turned the book up to show him the cover. “ _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Enya the Hag_.” he read. “What, some kind of lunatic wrote that?”

“A witch with the ability to see the future actually.” He continued to flip through the pages. “One of the only ones in existence. Only a few sold and the rest were burned by witchfinders.”

“So like you guys? Why wouldn’t you burn that too?”

“It’s in the family for me,” he admitted. “My grandfather was an archaeologist. He found this copy in Egypt, his team determined it was a worthless tourist item, but he decided to keep it out of curiosity. It’s a good source of information. When you can understand it.” Finally, he seemed to find a page of interest. “Here! _When thee meet the one with a permanent cap, thou shalt read of the deeds of the holy and unholy forces in thy papers. To the land of Rome, thou shalt go._ ”

He raised an eyebrow at all this. “What does that mean? My English isn’t good enough for nonsense yet.” 

Kakyoin sighed. “It’s an old book. And it seems like it’s saying we need to go to Italy. I’ll talk to Mr. Joestar.” And he stepped out of the room, leaving Jotaro and the book.

* * *

“Alright gang! Looks like we’re going to Italy.” Joseph seemed very excited they were going out into the field so soon since Jotaro joined. He could not say the same.

“Don’t tell me we’re going now,” he grumbled under his breath. “Yare yare.” Kakyoin caught his foul tone.

“Excuse me Mr. Joestar,” he began. “But Jotaro just got here and now you want to put him on a plane again? With no experience?”

“Agreed!” Polnareff had popped in from the doorway with Avdol. “Not to mention jet lag. What would you have him do, drop dead?”

“Alright fine! We leave in a week.” Joseph relented. “I’m gonna show Jotaro as much as I can until then, okay?”

Avdol raised a hand. “I would be happy to help as well.”

“Great!” Joseph looked his grandson up and down. “You’ve got a sturdy build already. Bet you can throw a solid punch, yeah?” 

Jotaro thought of the time he punched a bully so hard he got sent to the hospital to get his nose fixed. “You could say that.”

“Good. First lesson starts tomorrow.”

* * *

Egypt was awful. Sand everywhere. Sun in his eyes. Sweat trickling down his disgusting human skin. Leone was not enjoying this at all.

Bruno didn’t seem bothered at all. They walked through the streets of Cairo undisturbed. Anyone who looked upon them immediately wanted to look away. “You probably enjoy this climate, don’t you demon?”

Said demon rolled his eyes. “Of course. Snake, remember? It’s cold blooded” He stuck out a forked tongue and hissed. Leone growled back. “And I thought we would at least be on a first name basis by now.”

“Fine, Bruno. Do you sense anything here? We don’t have forever you know.” The kids were currently at school. Leone and Bruno had done a bit of… spatial warping to get here, and they would have to do the same to get back.

Bruno looked around. “I feel something, but it might just be the presence this place has. So much history here, especially where your God’s people suffered.”

“Yeah yeah, rub it in. Might I remind you we might be out of our reach here? The vast history of this place does not feature my God. That’s fairly recent compared to the thousands of years Ancient Egypt lasted. Who’s to say we can tell one ancient artifact from another here?”

Suddenly, the air felt tense between them. A shudder went down their backs. They turned to each other. “Then what's _that_?” Leone furrowed his brow nervously. It was a familiar feeling, and not one he liked. 

From the look on his face, Bruno didn’t like it either. “I don’t know,” he admitted. But it’s coming from that building.” He pointed to what looked like a mansion near the edge of town, visible over the skyline. The vibes coming off of it were horrid. 

“That one?” Leone hated it on sight. “Seems about right. Let’s go.”

* * *

There were no doors, just openings like most of the places here. As the angel and demon walked into the shaded hall, they felt someone watching them.

Leone narrowed his eyes. “Show yourself!” he barked. Bruno elbowed him.

“Don’t be so confrontational! We don’t know what we’re dealing with.” he whispered fiercely. Leone reluctantly shut up.

There was a man now, coming down the stairway at the end of the front hall. No, not a man. Leone stiffened. It had to be a demon. The thing that looked like a man bowed to them. He had long brown hair and a purple… leotard? He turned to see Bruno looking equally confused. 

“Welcome” the demon (he assumed) spoke. “You are in the home of my master, DIO. You will show respect.”

“DIO?” Bruno snorted "Who would be arrogant enough to - oh. It’s _him_ , isn’t it?”

“Who?” Leone was dreadfully confused by now. 

“The one you used to call Lucifer. Not the current guy. He was overthrown after we all fell. The current guy did it by saying he was the reason we lost. We were all pretty pissed at the time, so everyone was on board.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh yeah, I guess you didn’t know. Satan’s a completely different demon than you remember. Wow, does Heaven even know about this?”

“No! Because if we did, we’d have done something!” The demon was still looking at them, a little annoyed.

“As I was saying, my name is Vanilla Ice -“

Leone snorted. Vanilla Ice glared.

“ _And this_ is my master’s home. Now, you have been expected for an audience. Follow me.” He turned, not waiting for an answer.

They looked at each other. “Should we go?” asked Leone. 

“It’s for the best. He’s a nasty piece of work, even by our standards. And from the look of it, some demons still follow him.” Bruno grimaced. “Just be careful. He has a tendency to get in your head. Has a way with words, unlike my current boss.” He looked around. “Let’s hope he wasn’t listening right then.”

With Bruno taking the lead, they crept after Vanilla Ice (still a stupid name). The stairs seemed to go up forever, going past high walls of paintings of various historical time periods and styles. Broken off stone of Epyptian art, European paintings, Japanese art, everything was here in a kind of authentic tackiness. Whoever decorated this place thought he had good taste, and blatantly did not. 

As they rounded the final flight of stairs, passing a gaudy crystal chandelier, they were led into a room at the very top of the mansion. Vanilla Ice bowed to a man sitting atop a throne, which was surprisingly simple compared to the rest of the house. He had golden hair and a piercing red gaze. He wore no shirt and some kind of baggy pants, which Leone had to reluctantly admit was a look he pulled off. There was a large scar circling his neck. It must’ve been bad, considering how prominent it was on an eternal being. He was also massive in a way you needed to be born as or take steroids to achieve. His massive arms lounged upon the arms of his throne, topped with sharply pointed nails.

No one was saying anything, so Bruno went first. “Have you been here all this time? In Egypt?”

A satisfied grin spread across DIO’s face. “Indeed.” Leone could see that his teeth were pointed.

“And the name? Between you and the Boss, everyone seems to be focused on Italy nowadays.”

“You’re one to talk, _Bruno Buccellati_ .” DIO sneered. “But we both know that’s not your real name.” Leone felt an unexpected rush of protectiveness. He’d said something similar to him once, but this was not a joke between friends. This was downright _demeaning_. Even if he was right.

“And you, Leone Abbacchio.” He froze as his name was mentioned. “Quite a traitor you’ve been, consorting with an angel like this.”

“That’s none of your business!” he snapped. Bruno nudged him, but he continued to glare. To his surprise, DIO began to laugh.

“What fire for an angel! I guess you need it after what you gave away.” Leone flushed, remembering the sword. No one was supposed to know.

“So,” he muttered weakly. “Are you going to ruin our covers? Tell our secrets?” The red eyes fixed on them like a predator playing with its food. 

“No.” Bruno half gasped a sigh of relief.

“But why?” The demon seemed curious now.

DIO cocked his head. “As fun as it would be to watch you two suffer, it’s even more amusing to watch you fumble around, trying to stop Armageddon. And you’ve done an important service for me. Thank you for raising my son.”

“ _Your_ son?!” Leone burst out. “If he’s yours, does that mean Giorno really is the Antichrist?”

“No, he’s not. I find this world too fascinating for any spawn of mine to be destined to destroy it.” 

“Then why -“

“Why have one at all?” DIO cut him off. “I simply enjoy all humanity has to offer. Everything.”

“Bleh.” Leone made a face.

“Oh don’t be so prudish here, angel. You’ll find we don’t care for it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Leone now saw Bruno being the one to glare at DIO. 

“Anyhow, I figured it would be quite a hilarious scene if two demonic spawns came into the world around the same time. You’re welcome.”

Leone wanted to yell about the situation they found themselves in, the utter despair he felt, but it would be useless. It would only cause more trouble. But there was a yell, and not from him.

“So you just left him there?” Bruno was calmly furious. “You just left your son to those people? Those awful people?!”

DIO looked at him with disregard. “What of it? I knew you two were watching him, and anyone who properly covers power knows what it’s like to have none.” Bruno 

hands clenched, shaking in fury.

“You’re even worse than I thought.” He spat at DIO’s feet. Vanilla Ice shot up to punch him, but DIO held up a hand. 

“What have I told you about attacking guests, Vanilla Ice?” The demon reluctantly pulled back to kneel again. DIO looked down at them. “Anything else time add?”

“No,” Bruno hissed. “We’re leaving.” He spun around before Leone could say a word. 

“So I guess you don’t want to know where Enya’s book is.” Bruno froze. “What a shame.”

He turned back, slowly. “Explain.”

“Enya works for me, you see. She’s how I know so much about all your goings on without a spyglass or omniscience.”

“So you have a copy?” Leone tried not to sound too hopeful. 

“No, she wrote and sold it before she worked for me. So sadly, I have no copies. But I know where one will be.”

“Where?” Bruno demanded. He was beyond negotiating.

“Just go back. It will come to you soon.”

“Soon? We don’t have ‘soon’! The real Antichrist has named their hellhound, they are coming into their own. We don’t even know if the Four Horsemen have begun to ride yet!” Bruno was red in the face at this point. Leone has never seen him so worked up. Meanwhile, DIO just watched him like a child throwing a temper tantrum. 

“It will be in about a week. The Antichrist will not come into their own for a while yet. You have time.”

“How reassuring.” sneered Bruno. “Anything else you’d like to tell us?”

DIO began to file a nail, not bothering to look at either of them. “Nothing. Now leave. Vanilla Ice can show you out.”

“We can show ourselves out.” Leone was now the one to cut in. “Thank you for this information.” _Even if it is the bare minimum_. He just wanted to get Bruno out of this place. 

Ushering him down the stairs, Bruno went very quickly. He luckily had the long legs to keep up with him. 

Outside, he kept walking away from the mansion without pausing. “Bruno,” Leone calmed out. “We should be getting back.”

Bruno turned to him. The look in his eyes was almost hopeless. Cautiously, he put out a hand to touch his shoulder. “Come on,” he encouraged. “We need to make sure our kids are okay.”

“But they’re at school -“

“I don’t necessarily mean right now. Things are about to happen. We owe it to them to do what we can.”

Bruno slowly brought his hand up to rest on top of Leone’s. When he locked their fingers, neither of them protested. “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah.” Bruno agreed. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

After reluctantly learning how to use a stake, hiding a church’s worth of crosses on his body at his grandpa’s insistence, and a nine and a half hour flight, Jotaro and Kakyoin were taking a taxi to their hotel room. They’d stayed behind to pick up luggage while Joseph, Polnareff and Avdol went ahead to their hotel.

“First test, newbie!” Polnareff had said. “Getting our luggage safely to the hotel room. Kakyoin’ll help you, since he and Avdol are the mature ones. Have fun!”

“Don’t get swindled!” Joseph had yelled before making an exit, leaving the two Japanese boys to navigate an Italian airport. Luckily, Kakyoin was used to traveling where he didn’t know the language and easily found their terminal. Their driver looked friendly enough, a black haired man with kind eyes and a smile that reached them. Jotaro could swear he even seemed relieved to see them. Maybe he was desperate for customers. 

He began a friendly conversation with them in nearly perfect English. “So gentlemen, what brings you to Naples?”

“Work.” answered Kakyoin simply. It was wise not to divulge too much information. Jotaro respected his caution. 

“What kind of work?” The driver seemed innocently curious, but Jotaro shot Kakyoin a glance. _What should we say?_ Fortunately Kakyoin once again thought quick on his feet.

“We’re photography students. For our final, we were encouraged to travel, and Naples is well known for its beauty.” _Good. Flatter him._

It worked. The driver chuckled good naturedly. “It is indeed beautiful. But it has more than its share of filth too. Be careful.”

“Thank you sir.” Jotaro stayed silent and observed. Now that he thought about it, the driver seemed a bit _too_ friendly. Or maybe he was just paranoid.

“So I assume that bagis full of photography equipment then?” Kakyoin’s grip instinctively tightened on the bag. In it was _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Enya the Hag_. He wanted to have it on him at all times when they traveled. He didn’t trust it in the belly of the plane.

“Yes. That is correct.” _Could sound a bit more natural_. It would have to do. The driver nodded and let the quiet be. Their drive lasted about a half hour before they reached the hotel. They spotted Avdol waiting outside, waving to them.

“This where I should drop you off?” the driver asked.

“Here is great.” Kakyoin began to open the door.

“Let me get that for you.” The driver lifted the bag up to free up Kakyoin’s hands. He frowned at having the bag taken away, but it was swiftly returned to him.

“Thank you.” he said begrudgingly. Jotaro opened the trunk to unload the luggage. Avdol came over to help him.

“I thought you said it was the newbies’ job to get the luggage?” Avdol just smiled.

“Polnareff said that. Mr Joestar and I gave him that exact task when he joined so we could make sure he was, well, responsible. Kakyoin, for example, didn’t need a test, so he was very eager to toss it on both of you.”

“I see.” He hoisted Joseph’s surprisingly light suitcase. Given all the strange objects he’d seen him put in there, it was a wonder it wasn’t heavier. “So I’ve passed then?”

“Yup!” Avdol shook his hand like they were meeting again. “Welcome to the Witchfinder army, Private Kujo.”

“Happy to be here.” It was a half truth, but he thinks Avdol knew this. 

When they got all the luggage out, the driver drove away almost immediately. “Huh. I did hear Italians were fast drivers.” Avdol mused. Suddenly, Kakyoin came running at them with full speed.

“Did I drop it?!” Have you seen it?!”

“Seen what?” Jotaro had a sinking feeling.

“The book. It’s gone!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, looking at DIO: Excuse me sir, your vibes are rancid. I could smell them from a mile away.
> 
> Next time, Leone and Bruno are babysitters once more - and dog sitters. A meeting is called by some familiar faces.


	10. Demon Meet Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruno gets called to a meeting. Is it stalking someone if you're technically mist? Trish gets a new friend group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what! I've been on a bit of a creative high, so you guys get a much earlier chapter than the roughly week sized intervals I do. Also cookie for anyone who spots the Good Place reference.

“Alright.” Bruno plopped the book open on the counter. “Where to start…” 

Leone was out driving the kids to school. They claimed they were embarrassed by his tall figure lurking over them protectively as they got out, but he wasn’t about to start. Peeling through the pages, it was written in the old timey speak that really hadn’t lasted as long as people thought. Then again, maybe it was all short to him.

“‘ _In December 1980 an apple will arise that no man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes’s machine and good fortune will tend thy days._ ’” he read. “Huh. Like that American company?”

Many of them said various things about the modern world. _Taketh thy legs and use them, for thy health shall depend on it_ , _and wash thy hands._ He only caught passing glimpses of anything that could refer to any sort of war or disaster. It all seemed very mundane. 

He could feel his hands sweating, and wiped them on his pant leg. What if there was nothing here? What would he do then? _Do what you always do,_ was his immediate thought. _Hide away, save your own skin and don’t confront anyone. You’re done confronting people._

But that wasn’t true, was it? He’d yelled at DIO in his own domain just a week ago. It was a wonder he hadn’t been smited then and there. 

No, he couldn’t think about failing. That just wasn’t an option. “‘ _Thou who steals and curses and causes blight on all the world, as you read this, read closely._ ’” Bruno gripped the book tightly. “I’m guessing that’s me.” He read on. “ _The one you seek is nearby, on the street of gold. They are not yours to take, but to watch over._ ’” 

_A golden street…_ He went up to look through the cupboards, looking for a map of the city. Rolling it out, he looked for street names. “Via D’oro.” He read from the map. “Golden Street.” He thinks he just found the Antichrist. 

Should he go there now, or wait for Leone? Time was of the essence, but he disliked the idea of Leone thinking he’d abandoned him. His choice was interrupted by a ringing from the phone. He picked it up, hoping it was the angel.

“Bruno Buccellati.” Just his luck. “Your presence is required tonight.” 

“Who are you?” It was definitely a demon, seeing as they conveniently tended to reach him through landlines he was near, but he wanted the confirmation. The voice was male and authoritative, and a little familiar.

“Call me Prosciutto. You remember me, yes? Work for Risotto. Be a shame if you didn’t.” There was a threat in those words Bruno didn’t want to address.

“Ah yes, I remember you. I heard about how you tempted that priest last year. Good job on that, by the way.”

“Hm.” He didn’t seem moved by the flattery, but Bruno knew he liked having his accomplishments acknowledged by a higher ranking demon. “We meet at midnight, at the graveyard in the outer city. Don’t be late.”

“Is this about the End Times?” 

Prosciutto barked a laugh. “Hah! What else would it be about? The Four Horsemen are getting ready to ride.”

He tried to keep his composure. “Already? I assumed they would need time.”

“That’s what we’re here for.” He sounded disgustingly prideful. “We get to be the ones to summon them.”

“Wonderful. Good for you.” He hung up, and tried not to scream into his hands.

* * *

“Via D’oro,” he’d told Leone. “That’s where the real Antichrist lives.” Bruno had been brief and excused himself rather quickly, only coming out for dinner.

Narancia had been worried. “Where’s Buccellati? Does he not want to see us?” The sadness in his eyes tugged at Leone’s heart, so he patted him on the head.

“He’s just tired. We’ve had… a lot to deal with recently. It has nothing to do with you, don’t worry.” 

“Yeah Narancia, just let him relax!” Missy insisted. He was almost a teenager, and his gangly limbs showed it. He’d be tall one day, Leone thought proudly.

Later Bruno had come out with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Leone cast a concerned look at him, but he mouthed “Later,” as Narancia ran up to hug him.

So here he was, late at night having snuck out of the house, looking for the Antichrist. All Bruno had said was “I have something to take care of. Please do this for me.” 

_Can’t believe I’m trusting a demon. We should be far past that point and yet here I am, still surprised about it._ He took the car, since Via D’oro was still a solid twenty minute drive away and he didn’t feel like walking for longer than that. 

The apartment building he found radiated something the second he got in range of it. _Ah, so that’s it_. This was certainly different from Giorno.

His form partially dissolved into a mist, phasing through the walls and up through the ceiling, until he entered the room of a young girl. There were posters of singers hung up on her walls, which were otherwise plain. The walls were a neutral tan one could find in an old person’s home. The girl was asleep, clutching her pillow tightly. Next to her on the floor, curled up like an innocent pupper, was a hellhound in the shape of a corgi. Leone hoped it didn’t smell him. It should be impossible to be detected as he was now, but you never knew with the creatures of Hell.

The girl turned over in her sleep. Her face was scrunched up, even as she slept, like something uncomfortable was poking her. _Does she sense me?_ This was purely uncharted territory. There was no telling what this girl could do.

He settled for positioning himself at the head of her bed, trying to avoid the hellhound. She had short, pink hair that was scruffy and frizzy from the day. Her sleep was just like any of the boy’s. She looked like a normal child. 

_Too bad she’s anything but._ He thought how easy it would be to end this all right now. The subject of murder was a hot topic in Heaven, whethet the act itself was a neutral one. After all, if you killed an evil person, didn’t that make you good?

He shook his head. No, there were sti other options. _Maybe leave child murder as a last resort_ . That thought sunk it. _God, what kind of angel am I? I just considered killing a child who’s done nothing wrong! Yet, anyway_. 

He drew back, feeling disgusted. He needed to go, and go now. As his misty self passed into the open, he still felt empty as he formed again.

* * *

Leone has taken the car, so annoyingly, Bruno had to walk. Or he would’ve if it wasn’t nighttime and he couldn’t just phase into the shadows. Being late was not an option.

The long shadow of a trio of figures greeted him. One long and lanky, one tall and steady, one stout and hunched. Risotto was the long one, of course. He was wearing some kind of jester hat, which Bruno didn’t get, and wore mostly black. He was not about to tell Alastor, demon of war, how goofy he looked, so he kept this too himself.

“Right on time. You really are reliable.” It was the voice on the phone, Prosciutto. He had blonde hair tied back in three tight buns, a hairstyle almost as awful as his name. He wore an imposing suit and his face looked constantly scrunched up and pissed. 

“When am I not?” He’d worn a leather jacket, which he figured they would appreciate for the aesthetic. But when he looked at Risotto leaning on a gravestone, the bells of his hat jingling. Bruno resisted the urge to laugh.

“I assume you remember my subordinates, they call themselves Prosciutto and Pesci.” He nodded to the others.

Pesci’s human disguise was awful. His face was patched with fishy scales (hence the name) and there was some kind of plant perched on his head (or growing out of it). He bobbed his head in a nod. “That’s right, honored you meet you! I’ve heard so much about all the things you’ve done and -“

“Pesci!” Prosciutto snapped. “Don’t kiss so much ass. Who’s going to respect you then?” Pesci hung his head.

“S-sorry bro.” Bruno felt a little bad. A little.

“So you’re summoning the Horsemen?” Now to get into what he cared about.

“Yes. Boss trusted us with this task, and you are being informed as the one watching over the Antichrist.” Risotto sounded almost bored. “Really there’s no reason for all this. He could’ve just told you this and been done with it.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons.” Bruno didn’t want to question the Boss. Hell was all about chaos and disorder, but only if it was for the Boss. Revolting against him would not be looked kindly upon.

Risotto sighed and leaned back again. “Just give him the rundown, Prosciutto.” 

He straightened his back. “War, Famine, Pollution, and Death. They go where they want, wreaking havoc in their wake.”

“I thought it was Pestilence?” Bruno asked.

“He retired.” grumbled Risotto. “Lucky bastard. He’s taking an indefinite vacation in the dying coral reefs.”

“Good for them. Carry on”

Prosciutto resumed. “War is always on the move, since he goes wherever there’s conflict. We’ve pinned him down to somewhere in Europe. Famine has been around Japan recently and Pollution… is in Florida.”

“What’s wrong with Florida?” Pesci asked.

“Everything Pesci, everything.” Prosciutto replied. “Death was the hardest, since he tends to go where the others go, which is vast. But we’ve pinned him down to the American Southeast.” 

“And you said you’re ‘summoning them’? How?” Pesci spoke up this time.

“They’re each being given a delivery. Something each of them wants, and they’ll know it’s time.” 

Prosciutto surprisingly didn’t snap. “That’s exactly right. Pesci and I are the ones sent to visit Death.”

Bruno turned to Risotto. “Are you seeing War then?”

“No,” he said bluntly. “I’ve never liked War much. He sticks around for the spoils, and that’s not what he should do. That’s _our_ job. He should leave when his is done, no more, no less.”

“I see.” The Four Horsemen were an enigma to even Hell. They were forces of nature, embodiments of wicked things. They did what they wanted, and went where their sin was. The scariest thing was it was unknown what created them. It was apparently not God, and even the Boss was created by Him. There was no telling whether more of their ilk could be born from whatever chaos brewed next. “When are you going?”

“Soon. And we’ll hopefully leave even sooner. Armageddon is almost upon us.” Bruno could’ve almost sworn he saw Risotto roll his eyes at this, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. He had one ally he trusted, and that was enough.

“And if that’s all, then was there really a need to call me here?” Annoyance crept into his voice. 

“Since the Antichrist is your… What's the word Pesci? Other than assignment.” Pesci snapped to attention at suddenly being asked for help.

“Uh, wart I think? That’s it, right?” 

“You mean ward.” Prosciutto sighed. “Keep up Pesci, not knowing all the human words will make you look suspicious!” 

“Sorry! But I don’t think humans use that word all that often, right Bruno?”

“Sure.” Given the slimy scales, Peci had much bigger problems when it came to blending in with humans. He turned to Prosciutto. “You were saying?”

“Ah yes. Since the Antichrist is your ward, it was only natural we should tell you when their time will come.”

Risotto nodded, hat jingling. “You must be so proud. I’m sure the Boss will be. Imagine the promotion.” If he wasn’t so calm, Bruno could’ve sworn he sounded jealous.

“I actually like where I am now. Being around humans is fun, like talking to them and seeing all the weird things they do. It’s much more interesting than just torturing them for eternity.”

Risotto nodded in agreement. “Hm. Like for example, humans just love to take something and ruin it a little so they can have more of it. Diet Coke, veggie burgers, frozen yogurt, so many things that aren’t even that bad. Just perfectly mediocre.”

Bruno cocked his head. “You seem interested in that.”

The jester looked apathetic. “I suppose. The ways in which humans sabotage themselves are almost just as worse as what we do to them down below. War is the prime example of that. Even if you win a war, there are countless losses. There is often little purpose to start one. However, humans seem allergic to working with each other. How does anything ever get done?” 

“Better for us, at least.” He thought about going. Would it seem suspicious to make up an excuse now? “If that’s all, I’ll have to be going. Prosciutto, Pesci, have fun finding Death. Risotto, see you around.”

“Wait.” Ice coursed through his veins as Risotto spoke. “Maybe I don’t remember correctly, but there’s something… different about you.” He tried to meet his eyes calmly.

“Which is?” His voice was steady. _So far, so good._ The jester eyed him like he was playing a spot the difference game with his memories. 

“What is it, that thing humans use to make themselves smell slightly less worse? Cologne? LIke that, you smell different. Less like a burning trash fire.”

“Uh, thank you?” Bruno did indeed wear cologne. Yes it might be worth it to see everyone’s faces as they passed by him and got a whiff of sweat, trying desperately to be polite about it, but he would have to deal with the smell too. 

“What I mean is, you smell less like Hell.” _Shit. Is that because of Leone?_

“I’ve been up here for quite a while. It’s my job, in fact. Why is it a surprise I don’t smell like Hell when I’m barely there?”

Now Prosciutto was glaring suspiciously. Pesci just looked confused. “He means the stench of your soul,” said Prosciutto. “You don’t just lose that so easily.”

“Okay look,” he started, making up an excuse as he went along. “I’ve been a bit too preoccupied with the _actual_ _Antichrist_ to focus on corrupting humans right now. So what if I smell a little cleaner? As far as I’m concerned there’s not really any time for such a radical shift in such a short time that someone going to Hell would suddenly be going to Heaven and vice versa. At this point, each human has sealed their fate, and I have more important things to worry about. And with that, I need to get back to said things. Have a horrible night, gentlemen.” And he turned to go, listening for their reactions.

“Have a horrible night as well, Bruno.” Prosciutto grumbled. He seemed to let it go.

“Yeah! A horrible night to you too!” Pesci called out nervously.

Risotto didn’t say a word. Finally he spoke. “Just watch yourself.” _Is that a threat?_ But Bruno didn’t stop walking. “I’m sure your job is very… dangerous.” Then he felt their presences melt away into the shadows. He did the same, wanting to get away from the graveyard as fast as possible. **  
**

* * *

Later that next morning, the Una household received a knock on their front door.

Mrs. Una, fittingly mother of one and grandmother of one, opened the door to see an unusually tall man with even more unusual silver hair. He would be intimidating if he didn’t have a ponytail and a clearly home knit sweater on. “Uh, hello ma’am. Is Ms. Donatella Una here?”

She took a sharp breath at the name. “She’s dead.” Came the blunt reply.

The man looked taken aback. “O-oh, I’m so sorry for your loss-”

“Thank you, but I’ve heard it all already. What did you want with my daughter?” He nodded solemnly.

“I’m a friend of a friend, long story, but I heard she was a single mother, yes?”

“Oh, don’t frame it like it was such a tragedy.” snapped the grandma. “She had my husband and I supporting her! Whatever man got her pregnant clearly didn’t care enough to use protection, so why should he be a vital part of this child’s life?!” He looked a little startled and put off by the sudden personal information.

“I’m sorry ma’am, that was not my intention. I was going to offer my services as a babysitter. I have kids of my own, you see.” She narrowed her eyes, Her first instinct was to snap at this stranger that they didn’t need any help. They’d raised one little girl, and they could raise another. But with Dona gone, Trish had become withdrawn lately, only spending time with that damn mutt. Maybe time in a different house with some new kids would be good for her.

“Look.” She held up a finger. “I am willing to consider your proposal. With a few conditions.” The man nodded eagerly.

“Whatever you need, ma’am.”

“One, ‘ma’am’ is too much. Just call me Mrs. Una. Two, I get to see your house and your kids before I let Trish go over there. And three,” she leaned in for this. “If _any_ harm comes to her, I swear on my daughter’s grave you will join her.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Understood.” He actually sounded impressed. “Just so you know, I have a, uh, partner who helps me raise the kids. No big deal, just a good friend -”

“It’s not a problem with me if you’re gay.” He flushed red. Right on the mark. 

“I-it’s not like that -”

“Sure. Like I said, I don’t care. Of course I’ll have to talk to my husband. He’ll probably say yes, the docile old thing. And give you all the emergency contact information. _If_ you’re legitimate, of course.” Then she remembered. “As yes, how good are you with dogs?”

* * *

Trish didn’t want to go to this new place. She didn’t want to go most places nowadays because her grandma always made her leave Princess. But she was allowed to bring Princess here, so it was a little better. Grandma said there would be some boys for her to play with, emphasis on the boys.

“If any of them try to annoy you,” her grandma whispered to her before leaving. “Kick em’ in the knees, right where it hurts. And other places too...”

“Come now, dear.” Her grandpa objected. “I’m sure they’ll be very nice. And don’t kick anyone in the crotch, Trish. If you do you’ll get grounded.”

“If Trish kicks anyone in the crotch, she likely will have a very good reason to do so.” Insisted her grandma. Trish didn’t know what they were talking about. If anyone messed with her, she could just sick Princess on them. The corgi whimpered at the smallness of the car seat she was perched on. She hadn’t been walked today. Trish hoped she could let Princess run without a leash here. Princess hated leashes.

“Here we are!” Her grandpa stopped the car and got out to open her door. Princess immediately jumped out and began running around his ankles, yapping away. “Oh my - Trish, tell off your hound! We don’t want to make a bad first impression on your new babysitters.”

“Stop it, Princess.” The corgi stopped in place, turned to her for orders. She slid out of the car and rubbed her head. “We can go do fun things later.”

“Did you bring your homework?” Her grandma asked. Trish rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Nonna. Plus it’s the weekend. I don’t have that much.”

“You still need to do it!” she clucked disapprovingly. “No slacking!”

“Yes, Nonna. I understand.” Her grandparents led her up to the house, Princess trotting behind them. The door was opened by a man with the weirdest haircut Trish had ever seen. He somehow managed to make that bob haircut look good. He smiled warmly at her grandparents.

“Welcome, you must be the Unas. Come in!” Princess barked at the new face she was seeing. The bob cut man’s smile wavered as he looked down at the dog. “This must be the dog you were talking about, yes?” Before anyone could answer, someone called out from inside the house.

“Puppy!” A blur of a boy dashed past the bob cut man and tried to pet Princess. The corgi snarled at the sudden contact, making the boy jump back in fright. Bob cut man put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Narancia,” he scolded. “You can’t just run up to people’s animals without asking to pet them first. Please apologize to this young lady.” His big, frightened eyes peered at Trish from under his messy hair.

“I-I’m sorry I tried to pet your dog without asking! I’m Narancia, by the way.” He stuck out his hand eagerly. Trish shook it. It was sticky with sweat.

“Apology accepted. Be nice, Princess.” She told the growling dog. It stopped and sat obediently. 

“Woah! It does whatever you say! That’s cool. Can you get it to do tricks?” Narancia was over eagerly jumping up and down.

“Maybe inside,” Her grandpa cut in. “I want to rest these tired old bones that drove all this way.”

“You aren’t _that_ old.” fussed her grandma, but she eagerly took the couch when she saw it. Trish turned to Narancia petting a reluctantly still Princess.

“What’s its name?”

“First of all, Princess is a she, not an it. And I trained her, so she does what I say.” She whistled to the corgi. “Princess, lie down!” She lied down, little feet splayed out. 

The boy’s eyes widened. “This is so cool! I need to show my friends this.” He ran to the hallway entrance. “C’mon, they’re up the stairs.”

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

His face dropped “Why not?”

“It’s hard for Princess to get up flights of stairs. She has little legs.”

“Oh, okay.” Narancia looked disappointed. “But I can go get them instead! HEY MISTA! FUGO! GIORNO! THERE’S A PUPPY!” He rushed up the stairs. Trish sighed and scratched behind Princesses’ ears. “Remember, please don’t bite them.” She murmured to her.

The thundering of steps could be heard as Narancia came back down, two more boys at his heels and a third coming down more slowly. A tall, gangly boy with black curls sticking out from a red hat beamed when he saw the dog. “Woah, you weren’t lying Narancia! They really did let a dog in here.” He patted Princess on the head, who reluctantly allowed it.

“Don’t ignore her over the dog, Mista!” The other boy with white hair barged over. “Sorry, Mista can be an idiot.”

“Fugo!” Bruno called from the living room. “What did I say about using that word to describe other people?”

Fugo sighed and hunched over. “Only say it to people who deserve it.”

“Ha!” She heard her grandma cackle. “Isn’t that the truth!”

“Anyway,” he straightened up again and stuck out his hand. “I’m Fugo. Who’re you?”

She crossed her arms and gave him a look. “Why should I tell you?”

His hand dropped. “Uh, because I told you mine? Isn’t that how it works?”

“And give away my identity? No thanks.”

He looked confused. “What, are you pretending to be a spy or something? That’s dumb.”

“Maybe. But you don’t know.”

He crossed his arms, looking miffed. “Fine.” he huffed. “I didn’t want to know anyway.” He too, Brent down to give Princess a pat. Narancia came up behind them, looking wary.

“Uh, sorry if they’re bothering you.” Fugo snapped his head up to glare at him.

“ _We’re_ bothering _her_?! I think it’s the other way around here! She won’t even tell us her name!”

“Fine. It’s Trish.” Narancia seemed nice enough. She respected him at least. 

“Um…” She glances behind the other boys to spot the last one. He wore a large, baggy shirt and pants, making it impossible to tell how big he really was. His hair was a bit bowl cut like, but messier and a bit curlier. His large green eyes felt like they were looking right through her. “Hi there. I guess I should introduce myself too. I’m Giorno.” He didn’t stick out a hand like Fugo did or try to pet Princess, who currently seemed to have decided she liked Mista’s belly rubs.

There was nothing wrong or rude about Giorno, but she still felt a little creeped out by him. “Uh, hi.” was all she said in response.

“Hey Giorno! Why don't you come over here and pet the dog? I thought you loved animals?” Mista asked.

“I’m okay.” came the short reply. Mista frowned and went right back to giving Princess TLC. 

“Okay, Trish.” It looks like her grandparents were done talking with Bruno as her grandpa came up to her. “You’ll be here til the afternoon so your Nonna and I can go to an opera together. Have fun, be nice, and do some of your homework, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, I know everything. I’ll be fine. You’re free to go see your dumb opera or whatever.” Her grandpa just smiled.

“Play nice, okay?”

“Dear, it’s time to go!” called her grandma. 

“Coming honey!” They both shook hands with Bruno, exchanging friendly last words.

She turned back to the boys. “So, what do you do around here?” Fungi was still grumpy and neglected to answer, so Mista went ahead.

“We could go outside? Would your dog like that?”

“Perfect!” Princess kept to her feet at the word ‘outside.’ “Princess would love to.”

“Cool! Buccellati! Can we go outside?” yelled Narancia. The man was currently on the phone, and held up a finger to his lips. “Sorry.” He said more quietly.

“I’m on the phone with Abbacchio right now. He’s getting lunch. Any requests?”

“Pizza margherita!” said Narancia.

“Something other than pizza.” protested Fugo, to his friend’s dismay.

“Cheesecake!” Mista cried out. “But not in four pieces.

She looked over at Giorno. Still he just shrugged and was quiet. _What a weird kid_. At least he wasn’t annoying, but it still unnerved her.

“Fine, we’re getting fish for lunch.” Bruno told them sternly. They groaned but seemed to accept their fishy fate. “And yes, you can take the dog outside as long as Trish wants to as well.”

“Then let’s go!” Narancia sprinted out the front door, followed by Fugo and Mista. As Trish got Princess to stand up and walk with her, she glanced back at Giorno. He looked at her before slowly following along. _Seriously. Weird kid._ But she tried not to think much of it and ran out into the hot Neapolitan summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Trish to be a little sassy to the boys like she was in the anime to them initially, but don't worry, she's nice, just a careful gal. I've had the La Squadra members tagged since this fic began and now we finally see them besides Risotto. Yay!
> 
> Next time, Giorno has a dream


	11. War Brings Ruin, Gold Brings Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two demons make a delivery and get more than what they bargained for. Giorno has a strange dream. Kakyoin remembers something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I have not updated in a while. I'm very sorry for that, I just had something else to work on in my personal life. But it'll go back to roughly one chapter per week after this.

It was a clear day, the azure sky free of even the wispiest of clouds. Heat hung on the air like a humid blanket. It seemed to be a good day for peace. Of course, that was only an illusion. The looming shadow of the local city hall covered two smaller figures. 

Formaggio tugged at his suit, missing his usual spiked jacket. It hung loosely and wrinkled on him. “Do we really need to wear these? They’re so restricting.” 

His companion Illuso, whose normally wild hair whipped around in the form of snakes or thorny vines, now had it pulled into only three tails. He also wore a suit, though it seemed to slip on like a second skin as opposed to Formaggio’s. He stuck his nose up haughtily. “It’s professional. We want to have some semblance of grace in front of him.”

“Geez, we’re just delivering a package.” he scoffed. “Wouldn’t mailmen outfits be more appropriate?”

“We’re going to a civil meeting. So just shut up.”‘ Formaggio grumbled under his breath and held his tongue. He mentally set a reminder to ‘accidentally’ jostle him over The Pit. The mirror bastard had no right to judge him about fashion sense, dammit! Even now he wore a thick, chunky pair of purple sunglasses to hide his yellow eyes. 

They walked through the clear double doors, Formaggio swinging them both open at once. “Was that really necessary?” Illuso raised a single eyebrow.

“ _ Yes _ .” He stomped through the entrance hall. They were in the lobby, which was currently empty. Beyond the second set of doors the murmur of conversation came. Illuso took the lead this time and calmly opened one of them. The two of them slipped into the city council room, where some old woman at a podium droned on about a local pest problem. Looking around at the sparsely occupied seats, there were mostly older citizens there as well. There was a faint smell of tobacco from an old man huffing on a cigar. They easily found a pair of empty seats at the back and sat down. 

Formaggio elbowed Illuso hard. “Do we go up there now, or do we wait for this whole boring ordeal to be over?” he hissed in his ear. The smell of these old people filled him with disgust. As much as a crime as it was, being boring did not get you sent to Hell.  _ Just die already you old bags! There’s no way you’re goin’ anywhere else but up at this point! _

“Just wait. I don’t think he’d like to be interrupted.” He shoved his pockets in his pants and slouched down.

“Hm. Guess it’s time to doze off, then.” Illuso rolled his eyes (or the movement of his facial muscles made it look like he did under the sunglasses) but he didn’t try to stop him. Demons did not need to sleep, but he’d rather be comatose than spend another second looking around this drab nightmare.

As the old woman finished her spiel about raccoons or whatever, a clear, authoritative voice rang out. “Thank you for your input, Ma’am. We will look over your statement carefully.” It was a voice free of aggression or violent intent, yet Formaggio felt his hands twitch at it. He felt tempted to find the nearest sharpest object and jam it into Illuso’s leg. His eyes snapped open and he jabbed Illuso with his elbow again.

“That’s him.” Illuso scrunched up his face in vague confusion.

“What?”

“That’s him.” He gestured to the man who sat at the center of the desks. “That’s War.”

War didn’t cut an imposing figure at first glance, but if one looked close there was clear muscle under his freshly pressed suit. Thick, blonde curls fell over his shoulders in a way that would’ve seemed unprofessional on anyone else. But that, along with the pink color of his suit, seemed to fit like an extension of his soul. His face was regal and impossible to tell what he was thinking. If he was bored by this gaggle of skin bags not long for this world, he didn’t show it.

“Thank you, Mayor Valentine,” the old lady continued. “But might I add, it was Dolores’ chicken coop that attracts the vermin. Not to mention, she owns an unlicensed rooster. That’s illegal in this town.” From the crowd another lady stood up, not as old as the other lady, but somewhere in her sixties.

“That’s not true! I put my chickens inside at night, and I’ve had every rooster registered. How dare you accuse me of such negligence?!” she spat.

The older lady yelled back. “If you keep them inside at night, you could stand to keep your stupid roosters in during the morning too! And if you’d really kept them safe, they would stop getting themselves eaten!”

The crowd was murmuring now, concerned at the escalating state of affairs. Mayor Valentine sat back calmly, not doing anything. “You bitch! It’s not my fault your husband cheated on your ugly mug and skipped town for a younger thing! And now you’re taking it out on me!” Gasps of outrage erupted from the crowd. 

Formaggio leaned back. This was going to be fun. Unfortunately, his partner stood up abruptly. “If I may interject?” he announced loudly, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

He hissed and stood up. “Killjoy.” he muttered. 

“We have a delivery for Mayor Valentine.” He nudged Formaggio, who pulled out the package from the void in his suit jacket. He hoped he’d get to see what was inside. Curiosity had been eating him all morning. What sort of gruesome sign would be given to War that the end of the world was coming?

They walked down the aisle, Mayor Valentine’s regal gaze on them. As they grew closer, they noticed a glint of eagerness in them, Noone said a thing. Their eyes were all on the strange delivery men. By the time they’d walked past the podium, every member of the sparse crowd felt a primal anger welling up inside them. Anger might not be the right word, but their minds could correlate the burning feeling in their guts to nothing else. 

The silence was pulled taught with suspense as the two finally reached the mayor’s desk. And the room erupted into violence.

Neither demon dared look away from the recipient of the package, but they could hear the animalistic howling, the sound of things ripping behind them. War looked into their eyes.

Illuso took a nervous step back.  _ Fool.  _ thought Formaggio.  _ You’re really gonna be a coward now?  _ But as much as he didn’t want to admit it, his hands shook as he gave War the package.

The tape was torn off almost gracefully, in contrast to the violent frenzy behind them. Formaggio froze. He felt he should look away, but curiosity killed the cat, after all…

From the box, War pulled a skull. Dark and brown with age, two massive fangs protruded from it. Formaggio knew instantly that it was a feline creature. He had an appreciation for felines and their tendency to be little shits. And thankfully common too, he took the form of one quite often when he needed to be inconspicuous. 

War examined the skull, turning it to see every angle. A grin slowly spread on his face. He heard Illuso gulp. Then, War spoke;

“Wonderful. I must thank you greatly for delivering this to me boys. Might I ask your names?” 

“W-well,” Illuso stuttered.  _ Shut up!  _ Formaggio silently yelled. He side eyed a glare trying to mentally convey this. “We aren’t exactly using our  _ true _ names, so does it really matter?”

War shrugged languidly, eyeing them like a lion eyed a gazelle. “I thought I’d do you the courtesy. But I suppose it doesn’t really matter.” From the box, he drew another object. A sword, silver polished to an almost glowing sheen, carved with indents of flames along the blade and a pair of wings on the cross guard. The distant memories of a war flashed in the demon’s minds. This was the sword of an angel. War stroked a gloved finger down the edge of the blade.

“How nice of them to polish it for me. A relic this old usually has some kind of wear or rust on it. Give them my regards.” Formaggio did not know who “they” were, and he didn’t want to ask. 

Once again today, he elbowed Illuso hard. And this time, he meant it. “We should scram.” he hissed. “As in, right now.” War was busy admiring his new sword and skull.

He eagerly nodded. “Yes, I think that would be best.” As they turned to leave, they saw that somehow, an entire row of seats was aflame. The fire alarm began to wail, overpowering the noise of the bloodthirsty crowd. Formaggio caught a whiff of tobacco. 

“Some old coot dropped that cigar in the chaos, huh? Just great.” He whipped around to Illuso. “Hey mirror bastard! Get us out of here! I don’t want my new jacket stinking of smoke, ya hear?!” Illuso frantically fumbled in his suit pocket. Formaggio cursed the lack of mobility these suits granted.

“Going so soon?” War’s voice trickled in from behind him.

Neither of them wanted to answer him. Illuso fished out the shard of reflecting glass in his pockets just in time for Formaggio to feel confident enough to taunt War. 

“Ha! You won’t get us, you crazy bastard!” He flipped off the Horseman just as they were sucked into the mirror, leaving the room full of screaming people, oblivious to the fire and screeching alarm, and one oddly calm mayor.

“A shame.” War stood, sword and skull in either hand, and strode out the door.

* * *

The demons were spat out in the nearby mirror of a restaurant’s public bathroom. Formaggio landed right on his ass, which was thankfully pretty bony. Illuso was less lucky, falling sideways to where his head made a clunking sound on the tiles. “Ugh...” Formaggio stood and readjusted himself. “I knew it was a bad idea to go near those guys. Let’s hope the other guys are as smart as I was - huh?” In attempting to use hands, he noticed a sharp pain in one of them. A noise of distress came from Illuso, still mostly on the floor. 

He watched in horror as the skin of the hand he used to flip off War began to twist and burn. It  _ burned _ like nothing the demon had ever felt. The scream that erupted from the bathroom made all the restaurant’s customers jump or fall out of their seats. There was further confusion when two men ran out who certainly hadn’t entered through the front door, one of them clutching his hand and howling like a demon.

Bursting out of the doors, they could see that they were across the street from the burning building.  _ Wasn’t it only a little on fire? How’d it catch that quick…?  _ Formaggio’s thoughts were sluggish from the pain, but he noticed Illuso stiffen up and melt into a shadow. “Hey, coward! What’ve you got to be so afraid of?!” His question got an answer as he saw the tall figure of War striding from the burning building. The sword and skull were nowhere in sight, but he knew you didn’t need to see something to know it was there. 

Following suit, Formaggio melted into the shadows, crouching next to Illuso. He didn’t have a body to feel pain anymore, but a phantom feeling of burning still lingered. Normally, the mirror demon would say something snarky about watching his tongue, but the two could only stare captivated in horror at War’s slow stride across the street. 

“So,” Illuso spoke for the first time since they left the building. “What’re we going to tell Risotto and the Boss about this?”

Formaggio looked at the chaos in front of them. He heard what he thought might be screams from the building. 

“Honestly, in terms of what we set out to do, I think we can report this as a total success.”

* * *

Giorno Giovanna was currently having a dream.

He had a lot of bad dreams. Ones where the house was completely abandoned in the dead of night, leaving only him, dreams of his stepfather, of his mother, and of waking up to sheer darkness. This dream was completely different. It was a very good dream.

In his dream, Giorno sat on a bench under a tree. The bench was a plain brown, like anyone would expect, but the tree and its leaves were a shining gold. He held out a hand to catch a falling leaf. It began to wither away at his touch, crumbling into dry little gold bits. His chest seized up. Of course. Everything he touched would eventually fall apart. He’d known this since he could understand words. His time with Abbacchio and Buccellati had made him forget, but there was still something wrong with him.

“On the contrary, everything is right with you.” Giorno startled at the voice behind him. It was a man’s voice, deep and imposing. But unlike when he met most strangers, he didn’t feel threatened or scared. “You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

Suddenly the owner of the voice was sitting on the bench next to him. Giorno looked up with nervous eyes at him. His hair was blonde - no, more like gold - and his eyes red. His body was wrapped in a thick brown cloak, but Giorno could tell the man was muscular even so. He wanted to ask who the man was, but somehow it didn’t seem that important.

“How? What do you mean?” The golden man laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh, like how his friends made each other laugh, or how they made Buccellati laugh, or even how Buccellati occasionally made Abbacchio laugh. It was like he knew something Giorno didn’t and he thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

“Why worry about a leaf? It’s just one insignificant part of a tree. What can it do alone and detached?” He turned his gaze to the falling leaves, snatching one out of the air. “Nevertheless, it makes a good test. Hold it.” Giorno did, and once again, it fell apart. He cringed, knowing the golden man would be disappointed. But instead, he just looked at him curiously.

“Hm. Perhaps you are not ready after all. I thought you were, so I sped up the process by getting the hound sent early. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to do it myself.”

Giorno shook his head frantically. “No! I can do it!” He grasped for another leaf. Again, it crumbled. He stared at it dejectedly. There was no reason he should care so much about these leaves and this strange man’s approval, but he did. He almost felt like crying. And Giorno Giovanna did not cry. He hadn’t cried in a long time.

The man’s red eyes watched the golden particles be swept away by the wind. “You think too lowly of yourself. That is not proper for what you must accomplish.”

“W-what?” This golden man seemed to think Giorno could do something special. “I don’t know, but I can’t do it. I can’t do any of this. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Never apologize. Your problem is you don’t realize that leaf is beneath you. You must tell it what to do.”

“Tell it what to do? It’s a leaf.” 

“But it lives, does it not? Or it did while it still clung to the tree. You must tell it to live again, and it will.” Giorno could feel the weighty gaze on him as the golden man grasped a leaf straight from the tree. He could feel the life still remaining in it from its time on the tree. He held it by the stem, not daring to touch the leaf itself. 

“If you hesitate, you will fail.”  _ That doesn’t help! _ Giorno thought frantically. But he took a deep breath and slowly brought his fingers to the leaf. It withered a little at his touch, but he looked at it steadily.

“Better.” Giorno’s back straightened in pride. He’d done better, not well, but better. The golden man looked thoughtfully at the leaf, then back at the tree. “Perhaps it helps if there is life to start with. Try it again, but touch the tree.”

“But what if it wilts too? We won’t have any more leaves to try with?”

The red gaze turned harsh for the first time. “Then you’ll have failed. But you won’t fail, will you?”

Giorno gulped. “N-no. I won’t.”

He stood to go put his hand on the golden bark. As he approached, he felt a strange certainty in his steps. Like that man said, he knew he wasn’t going to fail. This tree was full of life, and it wouldn’t keel over just because some weak boy touched it. It was warm to the touch. Not in the same way that heat is warm, but in the way his chest got warm whenever he was around his friends, laughing and playing. The tree felt  _ alive _ . If he killed it he would never forgive himself. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

_ I cannot ruin this. I cannot ruin this. I cannot- _ A hand was placed on his head, interrupting his panic.

“Your anxiety will taint the tree. Calm down.” The pressure of the golden man’s large hand on his head didn’t really help. He could feel how easy it would be for him to crush Giorno’s skull like it was nothing. But somehow, fear was a good enough motivator to stop worrying and  _ focus _ .

He heard the sound of leaves unfurling. Giorno opened his eyes to see the branches of the tree getting longer and multiplying, sprouting more golden leaves in the process. He heard the golden man laugh behind him.

Then the leaves stretched out to their limit and began to fall. And in their place sprouted flowers. The golden buds bloomed into golden flowers with centers of pink seeds. Giorno thought they were beautiful. The wind blew at the flowers, scattering the seeds of the pink center. He kept his hand on the bark, but extended his mind to be thinking of the landscape around him, rather than just the single tree.

In rapid time, the seeds scattered and burrowed themselves in the dirt. Little sprouts burst from the earth, each quickly going through each stage of life and becoming its own golden tree with golden and pink flowers. Giorno took his hand off of the tree, gaping at what was now a small grove of trees.

The golden man looked proud. Giorno felt warm and gooey inside, like how that tree had felt. 

“Did I do good?” His eyes were wide.

The golden man placed a head on his head again. This time to attempt to affectionately scruff his hair. It was too slow and neutral of a movement to be truly affectionate though. “Yes. If his child upsets the natural order, then you shall use it to your advantage. One day a task as simple as this will be beneath you.”

His hand pulled away. Giorno’s head was warm, almost but not quite burning. 

“Now, wake up.”

And Giorno woke up.

Narancia was deeply asleep across from him. The boy would occasionally sleep with his mouth open and wake up to a puddle of drool next to his head. Abbacchio had told a frightening story about spiders crawling in your mouth while you were asleep to make him stop, and Narancia had made sure it was closed ever since.

Giorno didn’t get why everyone was afraid of spiders. Sure some were venomous, but most just ate flies and spun pretty webs and minded their own business. He always felt guilty when his teacher squished one without a second thought. 

Currently it seemed to be much earlier than he usually woke up at. The light outside was grey and dim, so the sun must only be coming up. He got up and stretched his arms while yawning. He might as well get ready and find some food downstairs if he was already awake. 

He was just about to get up when he noticed a golden strand of hair hanging across his face. Frowning at the oddity, he reached for it to move it away. You can’t feel your hair, as it has no nerve endings, but there is a certain weight with which it sits on your head. Giorno’s head felt a bit heavier than normal. Brushing his hand through his hair, it felt thick and tangled. His hair was black and thin and straight, easy to comb through and hardly getting tangles. 

Suddenly now more alert he jumped out of bed and ran to go into the bathroom. The one upstairs was split by all four boys, making it a place of chaos. Buccellati made them clean it up often. Currently the mirror was clean, allowing Giorno to see his hair.

Yes, it was longer than normal, and curly and thick. And most importantly, it was gold.

Giorno felt a shudder in his hands.

* * *

“Oh God. Oh fuck. How-”

“For the last time, Mr. Joestar. It was our taxi driver!” Joseph and Kakyoin were currently in the middle of another panicked argument about the book. Jotaro and Polnareff surveyed the exchange awkwardly from the corner of the room. 

“You took great precautions to keep this thing safe, and the one time you decide it’s okay to give it to a stranger, they fucking steal it! I thought we all agreed to be more careful than that!” Joseph looked like he was on the edge of hyperventilating. Avdol placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm them both down.

“Look, we’ll get nowhere by yelling at each other. Kakyoin, Jotaro, what else did you notice about this man?”

Kakyoin crossed his arms but complied to answer. “Blue eyes, black hair, in sort of a weird bob you don’t really see on men. Casually nice clothes, spoke English really well. As in barely with an accent well.”

Avdol also tried to reassure him. “There’s plenty of crime in Italy, especially in Naples. He was likely just a scammer who thought you had something valuable. I don’t know what monetary value could be found with how hard it is to decipher that book.”

“That’s not the  _ point _ .” Joseph hissed. “The point is that we lost our goddamn prophecy book to some random street schmuck in Naples! How do you propose we go about finding it, huh? In a city this big?!”

No one had a good answer for him. Kakyoin shrugged apologetically, but stubbornly maintained that it wasn’t his fault. Avdol just sighed and announced he was going to go out to see if he could find any leads.

“I’ll go with you, Avdol.” Polnareff volunteered. “This bastard might be dangerous.”

Avdol smiled appreciatively. “Thank you friend. That’s very considerate.” With the two gone, Joseph went into his room he shared with Avdol to sulk. Kakyoin plopped on his bed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I swear, that man seemed familiar, didn’t he, Jotaro?” Jotaro had stayed in the corner, watching everyone split. He felt pity for their state, but there was still a degree of annoyance at being dragged into all of this. But Kakyoin was genuinely distressed, and he couldn’t help but reluctantly sit next to him.

“I think I would’ve remembered seeing someone that distinct. Don’t get your hopes up.” Kakyoin still looked bothered.

“Look, I know it’s a gift and all, and it sucks to lose it, but it was barely understandable anyway? What were we going to learn from that thing anyway?”

“Everything.” Kakyoin grumbled miserably. “It might not be obvious, but all of those prophecies are accurate. It even talked about me meeting you.”

Jotaro raised an eyebrow. “You know, that’s a really awful pick up line. Most people would ask you out for food before going straight to destiny-”

“I’ve got it!” Kakyoin stood up suddenly. “Um, no I wasn’t trying to flirt with you. Sorry.”

“Oh. Nevermind then.” Jotaro pushed his cap down, embarrassed. Ever since his mother had told him he was oblivious to people flirting, he’d been hyper aware about noticing it. If only to not get the other’s hopes up.

“It’s just, I recognize where I saw our driver before.”

“Where?” Jotaro said.

“In the files. The two shady men we’re here for, one of them had a silhouette just like his and that dumb hair.”

I  _ didn’t think it was dumb,  _ thought Jotaro. It suited the man somehow. 

“Mr. Joestar!” Kakyoin called through the door. There was no answer, the old man was likely determined to sulk. “Mr Joestar, I think I know who stole the book!”

Wanting to see for himself, Jotaro fetched the file from his backpack and flipped through it. The blurry photos showed two men, one tall and pointy, the other also tall, but of a more sturdy build. And from what he could make out, he did indeed have the black bob of their driver. A haircut far too conspicuous and unusual to just be a coincidence.

“Holy shit,” he felt a headache coming on. Of course “fate” would have them be the same person. “Damn, that really is the same bastard. Yare yare...”

* * *

The next day, Trish came to visit them again as it was a Sunday. She’d had to do her homework last night as she hadn’t actually done any at their house, and had to cover so that her Grandma didn’t see. After she’d admitted it wasn’t bad, her grandparents had been so pleased they’d decided to dump her off a second day in a row. “You also go to the same school as these boys, dear.” her Grandma said. “It’s good for you to have friends your own age and not just a dog.”

This time, Princess hadn’t growled when Narancia ran up to pet her, instead staying compliant and even wagging her tail. Trish couldn’t help but smile. 

“Trish! I’ve got something really freaky to tell you about!” he pointed upstairs. “It’s about Giorno. His hair’s gone all wack last night. It really freaked Abbacchio and Buccellati out.”

“‘Wack’ how?” Trish asked. Her own pink hair was considered strange by many, but it wasn’t like she’d dyed it. “Did he dye it in the middle of the night or something? I heard it’s a nightmare to clean up.”

Narancia shrugged. “I dunno. The bathroom’s clean. But that’s not important! You gotta see it!”

“Fine. Wait for me, Princess.” The corgi whined but stayed put as Narancia tugged her up the stairs. At the top, they nearly collided with a blonde boy she hadn’t seen before. 

“Giorno! There he is, look Trish!” Looking closer, she could see his face was the same, still smooth and round, and his eyes were still green, albeit a little less dead and eerie. But his hair. Where once there was a head of boring, straight black strands, there were now golden curls bushing around his head. He blinked at the two of them.

“Hello Naranica. Hello Trish. Can I help you?” His bright green eyes reminded Trish of her own. They stared into her soul.

“Just wanted to show Trish your hair.” He circled Giorno energetically. “Dude, how’d you do it? Bucci and Abba are so freaked out right now!”

Giorno just shrugged. “I learned something is all. I don’t know why they’re so scared. This is normal.” Trish felt a weird tingling at the back of her neck. Something didn’t feel right.

“It looks good.” was all she said. “I could show you how to style it. I like doing that, and no offense, but it’s kind of a mess.” There was sleep frizz in a cloud around his head, and noticeable tangles. Her wariness of him was outweighed by her need to correct his hair. 

He looked surprised at her offer. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Hey, weren’t we going to play? Mista and I made up a really cool game for today.” Narancia gave his best puppy dog eyes. He’d done those eyes more times in one day than Princess had ever done them. But then again, Princess was not enough of a full dog yet to beg for affection. She’d come around eventually. 

“I’ll do it later. If I did it now it’d just get all messed up. So, what have you planned? I hope it’s not dumb.” Narancia began to babble about rules and objectives as he went to knock on Fugo and Mista’s door. But Trish was barely listening. She kept looking at Giorno. He’d stopped looking at her, but his presence just felt… contradictory in a way. Like there was an itch she couldn’t scratch. 

He noticed her staring and turned to meet her gaze. “Sorry I didn’t talk much yesterday. I didn’t feel like myself, you see.”

“And do you now?” She didn’t know why she asked. It felt like poking the hornet’s nest. 

He turned his head. “I guess you could say that.” And he went down the stairs, leaving her as Fugo and Mista came out, still half asleep and groggily saying hello.

“Do you know what’s up with him?” Fugo and Misto looked at each other, confused.

“What’s up with who?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formaggio: I see this as an absolute win  
> Illuso: You got your hand burnt to a crisp.  
> Formaggio: Like I said, an absolute win
> 
> Have fun predicting who the other horsemen are. They're Famine, Pestilence, and Death, in case you forgot. So La Squadra's here. Yay! They are not in for a fun time though. Sorry, but I guess it is canon. I love fics where Giorno has a weird DIO dream before his hair turns gold and he gets his Stand, so I had to have one here.


	12. Fatigue and Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crusaders deal with their worst challenge yet - taking to children. Someone's drunk. Famine is patient, but he has limits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, with school soon chapters are going to be even more infrequent. But I promise to deliver. I'd say we're maybe a little more than halfway through, but don't take my word as gospel yet.

It was a pretty nice house, thought Jotaro. Humble, by the ocean, it would be pretty nice if it wasn’t where the thief lived. 

Also the children. He could do without the children.

Joseph and Kakyoin were waiting further down the street in case of backup, while Jotaro awkwardly stood sandwiched between Avdol and Polnareff in front of the house. And currently, they were being stared at by five whole children. They’d been running around before they’d got there in relative happiness until the three hulking men’s arrival.

That tended to happen around Jotaro. Much to his mother’s disappointment, he returned the desire to get away equally. 

“Excuse me, do you children know who lives in this house?” Avdol spoke in smooth Italian and smiled kindly. While muscled, his shoulders did not slope straight out like Jotaro’s, giving him a less imposing frame. His kind eyes helped as well. 

The children were not persuaded. “Who wants to know?” snapped a skinny boy with messy dark hair. 

“We just want to-”

“C’mon, brat.” Polnareff cut him off. “We don’t have time for this. Something really important was taken, alright!”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” A girl with pink hair glared up at the Frenchman. “Are you going door to door or something?”

“Er-” Avdol elbowed Polnareff. “Kinda. Basically.”

“Going door to door looking for something that was stolen? Wouldn’t it be smarter to put up flyers or go to the police?” A kid with unusually white hair spoke up.

Seeing Polnareff was about to say something likely stupid, Jotaro chose now to butt in. “We saw who took it, we just need to know where they live.”

The tallest kid, a boy with a ragged beanie, stepped up. “We don’t steal stuff! No one here would!”

“Yeah! Buzz off, stupid hair!” the scrawny one cried from behind his taller friend.

“My hair’s not-!”

Avdol calmly put a hand on his shoulder. “Understood. Thank you, we’ll be going now.” And he ushered Jotaro and Polnareff away from the glaring kids. Once they had passed behind a building, Avdol looked at them sternly.

“What were you thinking?!”

“What? They’re just kids.” Polnareff insisted.

“They’re going to tell their parents they just saw three suspicious men asking about something stolen. And then what? We’ve just let them know we know where they live!”

Polnareff clamped his mouth shut, looking guilty.

“Let’s regroup and tell Mr. Joestar about this.” Avdol sighed. “And apologize to Kakyoin.”

“Wait.” Jotaro said. “That one guy only saw Kakyoin and I. You think he’d know it’s the same people?”

“Recounts from children are often unreliable. I’m sure they’ll know someone is onto them.”

“So we break in.” The other men stared at him. “Tonight.”

“Jotaro, that’s illegal!” Polnareff exclaimed. “Like, straight up illegal! We can’t just break into someone’s house like that!”

“Actually, we might.” Avdol spoke up.

“Not you too, Avdol. Out of all people,  _ you _ want to commit a crime.”

“It’s not as if I want to,” Avdol insisted. “But how else are we going to get it back? These two men have been reported for suspicious sightings, there could be deeper criminal or supernatural associations these two have. We can get the boom back and learn more about them. Two birds with one stone.”

“Can we at least check with Mr Joestar before  _ committing a crime?! _ ” Polnareff cried.

* * *

  
  


Joseph was thrilled, to say the least. “Finally, I can put the old lockpicking skills to good use!”

“What?” exclaimed Kakyoin.

“What?” answered Joseph. “Nevermind, that was a long time ago, mischievous teen, you get how it is. I bet you’ve gotten up to all sorts of trouble behind your parent’s back.”

Kakyoin, who was historically an honors student and a rather mild mannered one, spoke up to disprove him. Then he realized that would just provoke a knowing “sure,” from the old man and wouldn’t help matters.

“So, is any of your weird junk going to help us break in?” Jotaro gruffed with his back to the wall of the alley they huddled in.

“Hm, Avdol we got anymore of that invisible pixie dust?” Joseph asked.

“Fresh out. You used it all to hide from your wife when she came over.”

“What?” Jotaro exclaimed. “Why would you hide from Grandma Suzie? Is something going on?”

_ Oh, he doesn’t know _ . Kakyoin felt a stab of guilt. He really shouldn’t be the one to break the news, but knowingly withholding the information felt wrong.

“Don’t worry about it, just an old couple’s quarrel. Something about money and the will. It’s all good!” Kakyoin and Avdol exchanged a look. One that said,  _ We’ll talk about this later _ . Jotaro grunted and let it go.

“So is there nothing then?”

Joseph shrugged. “Guess we’ll just do it the old fashioned way. Break in.”

Polnareff looked concerned. “Uh, just a request, can I stand outside or something? Like somewhere I can get away really quickly?”

“What? Too scared, Polnareff?” Joseph teased.

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t get caught! Italy’s notorious for having stubborn cops. They’d die before admitting they made a wrong arrest. And being a foreigner who speaks Italian passingly won’t help!”

“Fine.” Joseph rolled his eyes. “You and Jotaro can be on the lookout. I brought some walkie talkies.”

“Why?” asked Jotaro.

“Always come prepared, grandson. Always come prepared.” 

* * *

  
  


“So we can agree he looks just like him, right?” Bruno looked up from the table. Leone was laid back on the couch, trying to hide the bottle behind his foot. “That bastard DIO. He’s got hair just like his.”

“We can’t jump to conclu-”

“Then why was his own birth so strange!” Leone snapped his head around. “That can’t just be a coincidence. Nothing about this is a coincidence!”

“Alright. Point taken.” He pinched his forehead. “So what do you want to do about it? Go up to DIO again and ask him? Test the limits with which he’s willing to stand us again?”

Leone sighed dejectedly. “I don’t know. For God’s sake-” he bent down to take a swig of the bottle. “We don’t even know when Armageddon starts other than soon. Soon, Bruno! An’ Trish’s named the hellhound, and apparently DIO had a kid around the  _ exact same time _ for some reason, and I dunno what we’re going to do.”

“Well first of all, being drunk’s not going to help.” He walked over to take the bottle out of his hand. Leone tugged it back firmly.

“It helps plenty! I’m coping with the inevitable here!”

“It’ll only  _ be  _ inevitable if you don’t stop moping drunk on my couch like this!”

“ _ Your _ couch?”

“I’m the one who swindled the guy into getting it half off, so as far as I’m concerned, you are paying if you puke on it.” Leone growled.

“Fine! See if I care, demon!”

A shuffling noise from the front cut them both off. They slowly looked behind them. In the doorway, half behind the wall, was Narancia. He looked at them nervously, fiddling with what looked like Mista’s beanie in his hands.

“I-Narancia- when-” Leone sputtered. The bottle suddenly began to fill as the angel became sober. “How much of that did you hear?”

Narancia looked guilty. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop I swear!”

“No no no, you’re not in trouble, just please tell us.” Bruno’s heart thumped loudly. 

“I mean, I just got here. Is Abbacchio drinking? Is that what's wrong?” He flinched as Leone stood up.

Leone’s features drooped into one of guilt. “Just a little.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Don’t worry, I would never do anything like that around you all.”

Bruno put a hand on his shoulder. “I think you should sit down for now.” Leone slumped back down.

“Yeah.” he mumbled. Bruno turned back to Narancia, who still looked worried.

“What is it? Where are the others?” 

“Mista told me to run and get you guys, there were these three weird guys, and they were really buff, an’ they were asking ‘bout you, said something got taken and it was really weird and-”

“Slow down.” He put a hand on Narancia’s shoulder. His go to as a symbol of comfort. “What kind of men? What did they want?”

“They looked like foreigners, sounded like em too. They said something got taken, and it was really important so they were looking for you!”

_ Oh shit. _ “Narancia?” It couldn’t be them, how could they have possibly known where he lived? “Were two of these men Japanese? Did they wear a dark coat and a green one?”

“One of them did.” reported Narancia. “I think he was Japanese. It was hard to tell under the hat covering his face, but it actually looked a little like Giorno’s.”

“Oh- Narancia, that’s not a great thing to say. Not every Japanese person looks alike.”

“No, they both have similar eyes!” he insisted. “They were the same green and everything! Maybe he’s related?”

“Maybe.” He would have to have a talk about this later. Preferably with Leone not drunk or hungover. “Where’s everyone now?”

“Still outside. The guys went away, but it was scary! They were so big, and one of them was yelling at us!”

Bruno threw a glance back at Leone, now half sunken into the couch. He left him alone. “Can you take me to them?”

* * *

“HEY! OPEN UP!”

Most people who heard someone screaming at their door during the ungodly hour of 3 AM would probably huddle under their bed and pray for them to go away or call the police. But this wasn’t the door of a normal human, and Melone sincerely doubted he was hiding underneath anything. It was a rather nice villa in the northeast section of town in a small Japanese suburb. And currently, it was silent. A moment passed. Then a minute. Ghiaccio screamed.

“GET OUT HERE! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT”S BEEN NOT TO OPEN THIS PACKAGE?! HOW SLOW CAN YOU BE?!” Melone spotted ice creeping up the edges of the box.

“Alright, taking that.” He snatched the package out of the fuming ice demon’s hands. 

“What the fuck, Melone? How ungrateful can that bastard be? We came all this way-”

“We literally just took a cab”

Ghiaccio ignored him. “-and he has the nerve to be this slow?! What the hell?!”

In terms of partner’s Ghiaccio was not the worst he’d ever had. Not many other demons could say that. He’d been known to freeze several of them solid, landing him tied with Melone for Hardest to Get Along With as a coworker. Likely why they’d been stuck together on Risotto’s team. They’d collaborated with RIsotto many times over the years, and officially got assigned to his team back in 135 BC. 

Melone, on the other hand, was known for being disturbing, even by demon standards and doing all sorts of weird, dirty things literally no one had asked for. But Ghiaccio’s temper left him exhausted, and he never had any energy to bother arguing with him. Perhaps that’s why they were stuck together. In addition to the normal exhaustion that plagued his flesh body, he could feel a stab of hunger pains. Huh. He thought he’d just eaten.

Needing to confirm his hypothesis, he turned to his partner. “Ghiaccio, are you by any chance, crankier than normal because you’re hungry?”

His face scrunched up. “How the hell did you know that? I’m fucking starving over here!” So that  _ was _ what was going on.

“Come now, Ghiaccio. I know you have a brain in there somewhere.” Ghiaccio hissed. “We’re on the doorstep of Famine. Of course we’re hungry.”

That didn’t appear to help. Ghiaccio’s face contorted more. “If he has time to mess with us , then he has time to get his ass out here!” Just as he finished saying it, the ice demon’s short fuse reached its limit as he broke down the door with his foot.

“That works too, I guess.” Melone rustled through his satchel, and crouched down, hands clenched together. Out of them he let a small spiky creature crawl, traversing over the broken door and into the house. It would scout and sniff all around and let him know what lurked inside. 

Ghiaccio, to his credit, waited patiently. He’d seen Melone’s work often enough to trust its validity, although not its often disturbing implications. The purple haired demon focused on the senses being broadcasted from his little homunculi. The faint smell of processed food and alcohol let him know it’d reached the kitchen.  _ Good. I’d be dreadfully curious to find out what Famine eats, if he eats at all. _

Suddenly, there was a blip in the connection. A quick thing, gone, then suddenly connected back. “Hm?” His concern caught Ghiaccio’s attention. 

“Hey, what’s going on? Is there anything weird I should know about?” Melons was about to tell him no, it was just a small spot, when it happened again. He scowled and exchanged a look with Ghiaccio.

“Should we go in?” Melone asked. This apparently didn’t even require an answer, as Ghiaccio stormed right in after that. “Hey, wait up!”

After scurrying I’m after, he took note of his surroundings with his own eyes. The kitchen and living room were barely, well, lived in. There was not a single photo of the residents or any paintings up anywhere. No dirty dishes from the previous night’s meal. He noticed Ghiaccio tense up.

“Hey, I’m thinking we just leave the package on the table and scram. He’ll know what it is, right?”

“We still need him to sign a form. Let’s just wait.” Melone looked around for his homunculi. “Famine moves in slowly, hunger needs time to build up.”

“Or you’re just being poetic and he’s a lazy asshole.” Ghiaccio grumbled. “This place gives me the creeps.”

Ignoring his complaining, Melone didn’t see a body, living or dead. But under the table, he found a small, broken off purple spike. He lifted it up to sniff it. It definitely came from his homunculi. 

“Oh. So you’re the one who shouted down my door.” Melone stood up fast. There was a man in the doorway. The first thing Melone took note of was his gaunt face and prominent cheekbones. They stuck out in a manner befitting more of a corpse than a human’s.  _ Bad breeding stock for sure _ , he mused. Not that the man was passing on his non-existent genes anytime soon. He didn’t look annoyed at having been woken up this early, but he didn’t want to test it.

“Apologies.” He spoke before Ghiaccio could, not wanting something stupid to come out. “We just need you to sign here and we’ll go.” The clipboard was produced from his satchel. The man stared at it blankly. 

“You know,” he slunk around the table, coming towards them. “I always try to get eight hours of sleep per night. No matter what.” His blonde hair was perfectly styled, despite him supposedly having just been asleep. “I went to bed a little early last night, around 9 or so. It’s three, so I’ve gotten...” he checked his watch. “...six hours of sleep. I still need two more.”

Melone glanced over at Ghiaccio. His teeth were gritting, but he remained silent.  _ Good. This guy sounds dangerous.  _ Ghiaccio was angry, but when it came down too it, he was rarely stupid. Looking back at Famine, his blank look was focused on Melone. He gulped.

“There’s always so much going on, isn’t there?” He finally reached them on the other side of the table. Melone felt hungrier than ever. “Some great hunger, some conflict, some apocalypse. It’s so chaotic. If I could choose, I’d prefer a much quieter life.” The entity continued to muse to himself. Melone side eyed Ghiaccio and slipped him the package.  _ Put it on the table! _ He mouthed. The ice demon nodded, and tried to creep forward while Famine’s attention was on Melone. Famine continued.

“It would be so simple. I wouldn’t need much. Just the faint hunger pains of coworkers right before lunch as their boss holds them late for a meeting as an appetizer. The occasional stray animal starving in an alley. If I really feel like it, just go into the city and wait around for some homeless to die. Ah, wouldn’t that be the life.” He sighed contentedly. His eyes narrowed as his head whipped around to see Ghiaccio, right in the middle of putting the package down. 

“But no. Instead I’m being  _ summoned _ . Summoned like a dog to its feeding time.” He very slowly picked up the package. “I am no dog. I go where I please. I will not wait around for a bell to ring.” He opened the package, hands nearly tearing through instead of opening. He peered inside and began to laugh.

“W-what’s so funny?” Ghiaccio finally spoke. Famine continued to laugh, pulling out a pair of silver scales.

“That’s not it. Here.” The second item of the box was a small skull. It was a cat skull that seemed to be preserved quite well. It was white, with a nice set of canine’s. Famine smiled at it. “It seems they know exactly what I was thinking.”

“Can you sign now?” Melone really wanted to get out of here. He was simultaneously fed up and terrified, and not willing to express either emotion. Famine wrote out some kanji on the page that read out  _ Yoshikage Kira _ .

“Uh, real name, actually.” Famine sighed and snapped his fingers. The kanji rearranged themselves into the English word, ‘Famine’. 

Ghiaccio breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. We’ll be going now. Right, Melone?”

He nodded a bit too frantically for his liking. “Yes, yes. Much to do. Armageddon and all that.”

Famine glared at them. “Good. I still have two hours of sleep to make up. Oh, and Ghiaccio, was it?”

“Y-yes?” The ice demon was nearly at the doorway. 

His gaze turned harsh. “Don’t ever wake me up like that again. I don’t like my sleep being interrupted.”

“Of course.” Ghiaccio booked it. Melone wouldn’t let him live it down later, but he had half a mind to sprint out as well. 

“Oh, and for you.” He stopped dead in his tracks. Famine opened his hand, where a small skeleton lay collapsed. “Feed your pets, won’t you? They break so easily.” He tossed the homunculi skeleton at him. Melone managed to catch it, and wasted no time sprinting out the door. So much for holding one over Ghiaccio.

Speaking of which, his partner was currently huffing a good eight feet away on the other side of the street. When he ran over to join him, Ghiaccio just looked relieved. “Ugh,” he muttered. “Still kinda hungry. I think we deserve a rest stop after… all that.”

Melone shrugged. He could feel himself trembling still. “Fine. But nothing will be open around now.”

“Convenience stores” he objected.

“Nowhere of  _ value _ .”

“Fine! We’ll go to a different time zone. Happy?!” Ghiaccio scathed, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Anywhere’s fine as long as it’s far, far from here.” Melone agreed.

* * *

When Bruno came outside, the kids were all huddled together outside the door. They’d told Narancia to go get him, then came anyway. “Where’d those men go? You said there were three of them?”

It was Mista who spoke up. “They left when we told em too. But they’ll probably be back. They still wanted to talk to you guys.” Bruno nodded.

“So. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melone's "satchel" is a fanny pack. Also yes, I did stick a bunch of references to the "My name is Yoshikage Kira" speech. So in this canon, Abbacchio's not an alcoholic because 1. it's kind of impossible for him and 2. Heaven still checks in with him and although they have no objection to alcohol, too much of it's kind of a no no. But he is a sad, mopey drunk. And the world's about to end, give him a break.
> 
> Anyway! Next time, the crusaders do a heist, some kids fight, and Joseph admits something to his grandson.


	13. Break-in, Break-in (do do do do do do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crusaders break in. Jotaro's not happy. A fish store employee has a pleasant chat with the devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't lying when I said chapter updates are going to be more sporadic. It's been rough y'all, but enjoy the chapter for now.

At night, the house stood against the moonlit ocean as a dark shape. Jotaro was crouching in the bushes across the street, Joseph crouched next to him. The old man wore dark trousers and a dark grey turtleneck sweater, ditching the Indiana Jones hat entirely. Jotaro itched to say something.

“So.” Joseph nearly jumped. “What’s this about you and Grandma Suzie?”

There was an awkward tension as Joseph peered over the bushes at the dark window, the calming sound of the waves filling up the silence. He looked back to Jotaro, brow furrowed. “I’ll tell you after.” Jotaro felt a prick of annoyance.

“Really? Because it seems pretty important to me. But I guess you couldn’t bother telling me before I came here, so why would you now?” Joseph cringed into the bushes.

“Look, I can explain later. It’s kind of a sensitive subject.”

“Did you cheat on her or something?” Joseph stiffened up.

“Good grief...” Jotaro pushed his hat down over his eyes. “It was that obvious, huh? There’s only so many reasons you’d go to such lengths to hide from your wife, old man.”

Joseph sighed, ruffling his hair awkwardly. For a long pause he was silent. Jotaro didn’t expect him to. “Does my mother know about this?”

He winced and made an unclear noncommittal gesture. “No? At least, I didn’t tell her. No guarantee Suzie didn’t though. Did she seem worried to you?”

“No.” Holly had been nothing but thrilled at the prospect of Jotaro staying with his grandpa. She would’ve told him about something like this if she knew. Holly didn’t like confrontation and drama. She preferred to mediate with an ever present smile. Teenage Jotaro had scoffed at her, but he respected her more for it now. He’d met so many dumbasses he sadly couldn’t just slug in the face and have it be that. And right now, said dumbass was an old man and family. Definitely would not be Holly-approved. 

The walkie talkie blipped to alert him. He pulled it out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear. “Polnareff here.” His voice crackled over the radio. “We’re in position. Everything clear on your end? Over.” 

He looked over at Joseph, who had turned away from him and was half heartedly gazing at the house’s dark window. “Hey old man. Promise me something.” Joseph frowned.

“Fine, I’ll hear it. I can’t promise I’ll agree.”

Jotaro shifted to lean against the wall of the building the bushes grew alongside. “After this, you have to tell Holly. And apologize to Grandma Suzie.”

“You think I haven’t apologized a thousand times over?”

He gritted his teeth. “Sure. Look, Holly deserves to know. You owe her that much at least.” He responded into the walkie talkie before Joseph could respond. ”We’re good to go. Over.”

* * *

Joseph had to put the shame out of his mind. It was time to break in. He and Avdol were coming from the right side, entering the window on the bottom floor. He let Avdol hold the walkie talkie. Talking to Jotaro would be… awkward right now. Kakyoin, being much lighter, was coming from the left side and climbing into the top floor’s window. Despite claiming he wasn’t very athletic, Kakyoin had found he liked to rock climb at the gyms in London. There was a flower box outside the window he was able to clip his harness to when on Polnareff’s shoulders. They would search the top and bottom floors and only go into bedrooms as a last resort.

Before going, they’d practiced walking quietly. The plan was to enter the house then take off shoes, leaving only socks to silently glide across the floorboards. Kakyoin and Avdol each had a pack with them to both put shoes in and the book - if they found it. It also contained a few special tools. Joseph and Avdol crouched under the window. Avdol peered in, searching for any sign of life. It was around 1 AM. Even the most restless partygoers would probably be getting tired by now. Let alone a house with kids. 

Avdol gave him a thumbs up. Joseph examined the window. Sash lock, easy enough. He pressed the sash upwards, lifting the window slightly from the windowsill and removing the sash between the windows. He pushed the window upwards. They were in. Joseph wriggled in first, giving the freed sash to Avdol for later. His shoulders required some sideways maneuvering to get through, but after that it was a cinch. He helped Avdol through by grabbing his hands, letting the shoulders be narrower. Once they were through, they quickly slipped off their shoes and stuffed them in the pack.

Avdol hissed into the walkie talkie, “Jotaro, we’re in. Do you copy? Over.”

His grandson’s voice crackled at the other end. “I saw you. Everything’s good. Over.” Everything was  _ not _ good, but that was a different matter. 

Kakyoin’s voice then came on over the radio.“I’m about to unlock the window. Over.” They gave each other a thumbs up. Now it was time to creep around. They started in the kitchen. Slowly opening drawers and cabinets for any sign of it. Sadly, the only books they found were a row of cooking books.

“Check through them.” Avdol suggested. “He could’ve changed the cover.” Unlike the others, Avdol was wearing dark grey instead of black (“You know it blends in better rather than just pure black, Mr Joestar.” “What?! That’s crazy Avdol, haven’t you ever seen movies?”). He reached for a book when there was a sudden  _ creeeeaak _ . Joseph whipped around in fright. No one was there. Avdol was looking wide eyed as well. The two let out a deep breath.

_ We’re just jumpy. That’s all. _ His fingers brushed the spine of the book as he tried to quietly pull it down. No one was down here, it was probably just Kakyoin getting in. 

“Hello gentlemen. Can I help you?” 

“OH SHIT!” Joseph shrieked. He jumped and threw the book up instinctively. Standing casually in the hallway as if he’d been there all along was a tall man. His figure cut an imposing silhouette. By no means was he taller than Joseph or Avdol, but he would stand out in a crowd. There was an unusual glint of gold in his eyes that put Joseph on edge.

His eyes flickered over to Avdol. He was tense, warily watching the man in the hallway. His fingers hovered over the pouch. In it were a couple of metal beams they brought to pry open windows and cases, and it was all they had. 

“If you would, could you kindly put my book back?” Joseph looked over to where the book had fallen. Thankfully, it landed on its side and was relatively unharmed. Avdol met his eyes.  _ Do what he says,  _ said the look in his eye. He slowly bent down, not taking his eyes off the man for a second.  _ He’s way too calm about two strange men breaking into his house. Does he know what we’re here for? _

He wiped a thin layer of dust off the book and held it in his outstretched hand. “Look. I think you know what we want. You took something from our friends yesterday in a taxi.”

With his eyes adjusting into the darkness, he could see the man’s features as his eyebrows rose. “What makes you think I still have it?”

_ So he admits to it.  _ “That book is important. It’s not something you can just pawn off.” He’d seen this man’s profile in his office. There was a good chance there was something supernatural about those golden eyes. “You’re the one called Bruno Buccellati, aren’t you?”

He glared at them. “I don’t know if you’ve been stalking me or what, but you have no right to break into my house and make demands of me.”

_ Okay. How do I get out of this? Work that old Joestar charm, Joseph. _ He cleared his throat. “Look, I know you’ve got kids and we’re not here to hurt you or them or anything-” Buccellati stiffened up.  _ That’s the opposite of reassuring, dumbass! _

“But tell us what you did with it.” The man crossed his arms.

“I burnt it.”

Joseph gaped, sputtering in protest. “No you didn’t! You wouldn’t have stolen it if you didn’t want it for something!”

“And why would I want anything with a strange, illegible book?”

“Because-!” Avdol looked at him with warning. If he really did have it they couldn’t let him know what it was truly worth. “Because it could be worth a lotta money. It’s suspicious that you didn’t even try to sell it.”

“Well it’s suspicious that you’re currently breaking into my house.” Buccellati’s voice was growing more irritable. His eyes narrowed, almost seeming to change shape. Joseph was probably just seeing things in the dark. “If you stay here a moment longer, I’m calling someone.”

Joseph tried to remain calm. Kakyoin was still upstairs. Would he be able to get down without being caught? Would he find the book up there? Avdol, calm as always, met the man’s eyes with patience. “Please sir, that book is a family heirloom of a good friend of ours. I know we have intruded on your home, but it is for a good cause, I assure you. Please, if you know where it is, it’s vital that we know.”

Buccellati paused, unmoving. Then he glared sharply. Joseph felt like a mouse being watched by a snake. “Don’t break into my house, then ask things of me. Get. Out.” That was all the warning they needed. With a quick prayer for Kakyoin’s sake, he turned to get out of the window. 

“Not through that!” hissed Buccellati. “I’m giving you a chance to leave quietly and you take the window?! Honestly… just take the door.”

“Oh.” Joseph and Avdol awkwardly shuffled across the kitchen, pointedly watched by Buccellati every step of the way. Once they got out, he slammed the door in their faces, leaving them to stand in silent humiliation at their failure. 

“Kakyoin!” Joseph exclaimed suddenly. “He needs to get out!”

“Check under the window he climbed into.” suggested Avdol. They rounded the corner, only to see Kakyoin’s skinny figure pressed against the wall, huffing. He was wearing a black sweater borrowed from Joseph since he didn’t have any black in his wardrobe. 

“Kakyoin! What happened?” Avdol exclaimed. Joseph looked up at the window sill to see the wire still hanging, Kakyoin’s harness unattached.

He caught his breath. “I had to get down. I was opening the window, and I saw someone moving. Hit my shoulder on the way down. Not my most graceful moment.” He rubbed it gingerly.

Joseph sighed. “Great. We need to get those ropes down.” He spoke into the walkie talkie. “Polnareff, Jotaro, abort. This has been a complete failure.”

* * *

“Okay. He had to be lying.” Polnareff insisted. They’d regrouped a couple of blocks away and were currently sitting at a table in the middle of a public park near the seaside. Jotaro breathed in the salty air. It helped calm his racing mind. “There’s no way he would purposefully target Jotaro and Kakyoin and steal the book for no reason. And then to only burn it! There’s just no way.”

Avdol didn’t look so convinced. “He didn’t look like he was lying. But some people are better at covering their tells than others. Either way, we can’t risk pulling something like that again. As foreigners, getting the police involved would not end well.” Joseph nodded in agreement. Kakyoin had his hands folded on the table, looking stark.

“Well, there’s one thing we can confirm,” Joseph said. “There was definitely something fishy about that Buccellati guy. His eyes were going all snake-like. Looks like the case files got this one right.”

Jotaro rolled his eyes. Of course Joseph thought it was something supernatural. What an easy and convenient solution to all this. The petty thief just  _ had _ to be some evil mastermind who couldn’t have possibly burned that book yet. He kept quiet, not feeling like engaging Joseph on this.

“He seemed kind of familiar,” said Avdol to himself.

“I say we follow him.” It was Kakyoin who suggested this. “We need more than just one fact to confirm that, let alone what he is.”

“We’d need to be careful. He’s caught us once before.” Avdol warned. “I don’t think Joseph or I should trail him. Kakyoin, do you think anyone saw you?”

He rubbed his shoulder again at the memory of his failure. “No, I got down the second I saw movement and I didn’t see anyone looking out the window.”

“Great!” Joseph pumped a fist. “There’s hope for us yet. Jotaro, Polnareff, and Kakyoin can all keep tabs on him.”

Jotaro muttered something under his hat. Kakyoin turned to him “What was that?”

“I said this is bullshit!” He didn’t yell, but the anger in his voice was still apparent. “You drag me out to Italy to catch some scammer, make me help you break into his house, and now you want to stalk him?”

“That’s our best solution right now-” Polnareff tried to say.

“No. Enough of that. When have you ever shown me any hard concrete proof that this stuff exists? Why should I believe you? I’m not just going to invade someone’s life because you psychos  _ think _ he’s a monster or something.”

“It’s not just about that, Jotaro. There’s the boom to worry about-” Joseph tried to say.

“And why should I trust anything you say old man? Since you’re clearly been so eager to tell your family the truth lately.” Joseph flinched. “Look.” His gaze raked over the group. Avdol watched him with concern, Polnareff with outrage, and Kakyoin just kept his gaze turned down. “I’m not saying what you do doesn’t have a purpose, or that witches or whatever don’t exist-”

“That’s kind of what it feels like...” Polnareff muttered.

“But I didn’t sign up for this. I promised to help out a little in return for a place to stay so I could go to university. I didn’t agree to help you commit crimes and potentially get arrested in a foreign country.” He looked to Polnareff. “You had similar concerns, right? This can’t possibly be worth it.”

The Frenchman sighed. “Yeah, I did. I don’t appreciate your tone, but it’s true. I have a younger sister to take care of, and I really can’t deal with going to jail and all that.” 

Joseph sighed. “Fine. If that’s how you both feel. I just thought I could count on you, Polnareff.” 

Polnareff looked guilty, but Jotaro held his stance. He looked over to where Kakyoin hadn’t said a word. “I’m sorry about your book. But I just can’t risk my future like this.”  _ It wouldn’t be the first time I’d be in jail. But I’ve cleaned up my act from my younger punk ass self’s days. I need to prove it,  _ was what he didn’t say. 

Kakyoin shrugged. “It’s fine. Mr. Joestar’s rich. He can bail us all out.” He didn’t look like it was all good, but Jotaro didn’t feel like getting into anymore charged discussions tonight. 

“I can? I mean, you’re right, of course I can!” Joseph declared. “I’m pretty sure they take cash. Better make a withdrawal...”

“Fine.” Jotaro took in another deep breath of sea air. “We should really get back to the hotel.”

“I’m sure talking about it in the morning will be better for everyone.” Avdol tried to reassure them. Jotaro was pretty sure his mind wouldn’t change anytime soon, but he nodded. He just wanted to get away from everyone and sleep.

* * *

“Hey! Wake up, we got customers!”

The sleeping man jolted awake with a yelp. Sunlight streamed in through the glass entrance of the small fish market. Said customers, two old women started to browse their selection, giving Doppio enough time to recover.

“Honestly,” his boss grumbled. “That’s the second time this week. Are you sure you’re sleeping right?” Despite his gruffness, the boss was a pretty nice guy, thought Doppio. He’d taken pity on him, a man with seemingly no qualifications who’d been fired from every part time job he tried to hold down for the past… he didn’t remember how long it’d been. But he turned out to be good with fish. Doppio vaguely remembered going through the motions of cleaning and gutting one, and that was enough for the boss. 

Sardinia was a popular place for shopping for luxury goods, but this place was simple and local. Doppio had tried working at some of those places like restaurants and clothes sellers, but his ability to talk to people proved inadequate. This was the kind of job he felt comfortable in. He just had to gut fish and count money. Boss took care of the talking. 

And talk he did. The two old ladies were surprisingly chatty for an early Monday morning. Doppio busied himself cleaning the Anguilla. Their conversation drifted from church gossip, to stories about their grandchildren, to finally asking about actual fish. By the time they walked out with a package of salmon, Doppio was almost done with the Anguilla. 

The boss turned to him when they left. “You good?” Doppio frowned and gave a nonchalant shrug.

“Yeah of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” He wiped a slimy gloved hand on his apron. Anguilla flesh was oily. 

“Alright, if you say so. I just need to sort some things in the back, so hold down the fort, okay?”

“W- me? All alone?!” Every time he’d gotten fired for improper conduct flashed through his mind.

“Yeah, it’s just for a little. You’ve got this, Doppio. Just take the customer’s orders and get their seafood. That’s all.” He gave him a thumbs up. “I’m counting on you.” Doppio frantically nodded as the boss left for the back storage.

“You can do this, just ask them what they want, and get it, just keep on gutting fish and-” He reached for a knife to keep doing busy work. “And just clean and gut and ask them what they want and clean and take their order and-”

It went on like this for ten minutes. Apparently “just for a little” meant something different to the boss than it did for Doppio. No one had come in yet, but he clutched the knife tighter and tighter every time a minute passed on the clock. 

Suddenly, he heard the sound of the door opening. “Who’s there?!” He yelled instinctively, and immediately buried his face in his hands.  _ Why did you say that? That was so dumb, the boss was wrong, he can’t trust you with anything and he never show again. _ He realized that the oil from his plastic gloves were currently getting all over his pink hair. Looking like even more of a fool. He groaned and looked up to see who had seen his embarrassing display. But no one was there.

“Huh? I know I heard something come in.”  _ Did I just imagine it? I’m not great at remembering things, after all.  _ He looked at the rows of prepared fish. The organization of it calmed him somewhat. “Look on the bright side!” he said to himself. “You didn’t embarrass yourself in front of a customer, and you got it all out of your system.”

**_Hm, is this what I have to come back to?_ ** Doppio lept frantically. The voice sounded as if it came from right behind him. But there was no one there, he was sure of it. The voice rumbled again.  **_Perhaps I did too much damage last time. Can you speak, Doppio?_ **

“Who the hell are you?!” he shrieked. His hand went for the knife and brandished it at the air. 

**_You don’t remember that. It means I did my job the first time, but it’s rather frustrating now._ **

His head began to ache. “You don’t make any sense! You can’t exist cause you aren’t here. I’m just crazy!”

The voice became more agitated.  **_I forgot how frustrating this was. Look, all you need to do is listen to me. We need to get off Sardinia and go to Naples._ **

“Why would I ever do that? I can’t just leave, I work here!” Both hands now gripped the knife handle, sweating profusely. 

**_You’ll do it because I’m your boss, Doppio._ **

He scratched his head, even more confused. “Y-you are? You don’t sound anything like him.”

**_Not that fool who just left! Think to twelve years ago. Can you remember anything? Anything at all?_ **

“No! That’s-” Doppio could barely remember what he had for lunch last week, let alone that long ago. But he tried to think back, better to listen to what the voice said than be hurt by whoever was there. It was all very blurry. He remembered the sea, but that didn’t mean much when his town was only a couple of hours from the shore. One thing that was strange was the face of someone he didn’t recognize. They smiled at him as he fiddled with a camera. Their pose was leaning against the base of a statue, against the blue, blue sea.

**_There! So there’s enough of you to be useful after all._ ** The voice seemed satisfied.  **_Now, we must leave._ **

“Hang on, I never agreed to any of that-”

**_Oh Doppio, you may not realize it now, but it’s in your best interest. There aren’t going to be many more chances for you to do anything if you don’t go now._ **

His apprehension didn’t waver, but Doppio felt his body relaxing nonetheless. “No more chances? Are you going to kill me?”

**_Of course not._ ** Somehow, Doppio felt he was telling the truth.  **_On the contrary, I am trying to make sure you survive. And you will, if you do this for me._ **

“Exactly what is that? Because all you’ve told me to do is go to Naples, but I have no idea what’s after that.”

**_I need you to find someone. She’s a young girl, around eleven. I would even go as far to say she looks somewhat like you. You’re going to find her for me._ **

“And why can’t you do that yourself, Mr Disembodied Voice?”

**_It’s not as if I doubt my men. But this is too important for me to not see it myself. Besides, I’m doing you a favor by only being a voice. Occupying bodies and I have… never gone well together. Lots of oozing and combustion is involved._ **

Doppio shivered. “You really sound like you’re threatening me, y’know? I don’t know about this, I really need this job-”

**_And within the next month, it will all be gone. Within days or weeks, even we don’t know, but it will all be gone. And if you do this, you will be spared._ **

He gulped. Again, he could somehow tell this voice wasn’t lying. He looked down at the knife and stuffed it into his apron pocket. Just in case. He knew this was insane but he felt a strong compulsion to obey the voice. The same urge one would feel when their boss told them to watch the store, one where you didn’t want to disappoint the person ordering you. “This is stupid. But I think I have you.” And before he could change his mind, he bolted out from around the counter and through the door.

**_This is for the best Doppio. Neither of us will regret this._ ** He was too busy running to really care, a lingering and irrational fear of his boss bursting from the doors and shouting at him to come back persisted. It wasn’t until he was calling a taxi to Cagliari did he realize he hadn’t taken his plastic gloves off. There were ferries to Naples there. He could catch one if he was quick and traffic was bad. The taxi driver raised an eyebrow at his stained apron, but didn’t pry.

“Where to?”

“Cagliari, as fast as you can. I need to make a ferry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anguilla is a kind of eel that tastes good when fried. I always wished we got to see more of how the Joestars outside of Josuke were affected by Joseph cheating. Like we hear about Suzie being pissed but never see it. And what about poor Holly? Jotaro clearly wasn't happy with him in the anime, but he's so old he likely would feel bad about snapping. Not here! Doppio pls put the knife down it's never a good thing when you hear voices and are near knives. 
> 
> Anyway next time, two demons discover a magical place called Florida, Doppio goes on an adventure with the devil. Someone's busted.


	14. If You Give a Demon Possessed Employee A Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leone's in hot water. Pollution does not endorse recycling. Doppio is just really fucking tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE. Seriously, these past few months have been rough and my motivation low. I can't promise weekly updates again, but this chapter in particular was kind of a bitch to write so hopefully I'll feel more efficient after posting it.

Doppio had run onto the boat at the last second, fully prepared to brandish his knife at anyone who got in the way.

Thankfully, the crowd of people was fairly scarce this time of day. Only a few people cast strange looks at the pink haired man running out of a taxi in a greasy apron. He’d frantically fished through his wallet while the ticket seller glared irritably, half leaping onto the ship before they departed from the dock. The voice in his head had been relatively quiet the whole way, only audibly grumbling at his fumbling with the money. But now, having taken a seat outside facing the sea, he tried to quietly mutter. “So, where is this kid anyway?”

There was a long pause. Doppio couldn’t tell if it was a thoughtful pause or a “I was just zoned out pause.” Finally he heard the voice again.  **_A reasonable question. You will feel drawn to her, as blood draws to blood._ **

_ What does that even mean?! _ He gripped his ponytail nervously. What was he doing? Abandoning his job to follow some crazy voice in his head?  _ Stupid Doppio, you’ve runined everything!  _

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like the voice’s words were the truth. It was stupid, but he felt… not scared, but resigned somehow. As if this was the only way things could be. And it sounded so… familiar. He shook his head and tried not to think about it. It would only cause more strife. 

So he turned his face toward the ocean breeze, letting it calm his mind as he tried not to think about anything for the little he could. 

* * *

The morning after the break-in, the same Monday morning Doppio left at, Bruno eyed the undone lock of his window. He flicked his wrist and watched it seal shut. He could open another window if he wanted fresh air. He was busy making his second pot of coffee. The first he had absentmindedly drunk while getting the kids ready for school, not realizing it was empty until he hit the bottom. His fingers drummed against the counter, jittery with caffeine. He could easily dispel it like he did alcohol, but he needed this.

A groan came from the hallway as Leone shambled down into the kitchen, his hand pressed to his forehead. He looked blearily around himself, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late enough. The kids are off the school already.” Bruno fetched another mug from the cupboard. “Coffee?”

Leone grunted. Which probably meant yes. Bruno poured the dark liquid, watching Leone’s face carefully. It looked like he’d fallen asleep in his makeup, the lipstick smeared like he’d tried to wipe it off. As he handed him the mug, their fingers brushed. Leone’s hand lingered, steadying his hand to grip the weight of the mug so as not to spill it, then it was gone. He stared into the coffee blankly.

Bruno poured himself a cup and sipped the hot liquid gingerly. Normally he’d add milk, but he just needed to hold a full conversation right now. Leone had slept like the dead the whole time the house was broken into.

“So,” he began. “How’re you feeling?” Leone continued to fixate on his coffee, finally raising the mug to his lips and taking a slow sip. 

“Fine.” His face scrunched up at the bitterness of the coffee, but he kept drinking. Bruno gave his disheveled state a one over and raised his eyebrows.

  
The hungover angel sighed. “Okay, I feel like shit. Slept in so the kids wouldn’t see me like this.” He rubbed his face and looked at the makeup that came off. “Especially Giorno.”

Bruno felt a pang of gratefulness and disappointment. Leone was an angel where it counted. “Right. So I hope that won’t happen again. We can’t afford to feel sorry for ourselves right now.”  _ Or let it affect us raising our kids _ . He was continually surprised at how readily “we” and “our” when referring to him and Leone slipped into his vocabulary.  _ Yes. Our house. Our kids. It doesn’t sound bad. _

Leone slumped over further. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t know. I can’t promise that.”

Bruno took a pause. “Did you know our house was broken into last night?”

“What?!”

“The humans I stole the book from. They broke in to get it back.”

Leone looked bewildered. “When? How? How didn’t I hear that?” Bruno said nothing, giving him a knowing look. “Oh. Drunk, right.”

“Do you see now? What if something like that happens again? It was fine now, but what about the kids? They need you Leone.” He took a deep breath. “ _ I _ need you.”

Leone wrung his hands around his mug. “Don't,” he said softly.

“What?”

“Don’t play that card. I get it, I was useless last night. No need to rub it in.” Bruno deflated.

“That’s not what I-”

“Look, can’t I just have this one thing?” His voice raised, but not yelling. “All of this, and you expect me to just hunker down and bear it? I just need some stress relief, alright? You’re a demon, I’d be pretty pathetic if you needed my help.”

Bruno stood in silence and took a long drink. “Booze won’t help us save the world.”   
  
“Booze’ll be a great help if it does end. Which is what it’s looking like right now.” He hissed. “Eleven years, Bruno. We’ve wasted eleven years.”

“That doesn’t matter. We have now, that’s what matters.”

  
“Now?” He drew himself up. “Now is a few days to a couple of weeks at best! The hellhound’s been named, they’re summoning the Horsemen, and a demon’s advising me not to get drunk!” He laughed bitterly. “What is this world coming to?”

“If we do nothing, the end.”

Leone slumped back, deflated. “Let’s not do this now,” he muttered. “My head’s being a bitch this morning.”

Bruno clenched his hands around his coffee and finished the rest in one gulp. “Fine”.

The rest of the morning was painfully awkward.

  
  


* * *

  
  


There are certain things that would be considered very strange to the average human if you saw it walking down the street. No one would likely be curious (or foolish) enough to actually go up to the thing and ask, but it’ll likely get weird looks. In the state of Florida, people were used to such odd sights frequently enough that there was hardly a passing glance at the suited man dragging what looked like a swampy gator corpse in human form behind him.

Prosciutto hastily trod over the sidewalk, thankful that no one gave the scaly Pesci a second look. There were a couple of double takes, but it was easy to assume it was just some parent dragging their clumsy child who’d fallen into a swamp. No need to look closer at how it wasn’t just a layer of slime, but the texture of his skin that glistened and oozed. 

It was an overcast day, and humid as well. The air hung around them heavy and hot, making everything feel sticky. Prosciutto wiped his brow in frustration. For all Pesci’s inability to keep a proper human form annoyed him, the ooze of his skin seemed to keep him in better shape than him. The only downside being the smell of rotting fish that choked out everything else.

“Pesci!” he barked. “Do you have the package?” 

He nodded frantically, holding out the now slimy box from under his arm. “Right here, bro. I told you I wouldn’t drop it!”

“Good. Now continue to not do that.” He surveyed the area, trying to get a feel for where it was filthiest. Of course Pollution would have to be in an area so thoroughly covered in filth, but it wasn’t making it any easier to find them. The opposite, in fact. But seeing as the swampy river they trod past was the filthiest thing he could find, it seemed like their best bet. 

“Uh, Bro?” Pesci mumbled behind him. He felt a prick of irritation. His partner had been asking incessant questions about this place and why people stared so much at him the entirety of their trip. He decided to ignore him. Now, where would that Pollution bastard like to camp out? From the shaky reports of the others, War and Famine had taken up human appearances and roles, so it was not a stretch that Pollution would be found amongst them. “Bro? Are you listening?” Prosciutto continued to ignore him.

What human jobs would Pollution be fascinated by? They had workers who dumped trash in big dumps, right? Or maybe that was too lowly a position. The Four Horsemen being an enigma meant that unfortunately, No one had a good grasp on their temperament beyond being unpredictable. Did they prefer slipping in amongst humans unseen to cause chaos, or to rein among them? Knowing the state of their ego would be of great help right about now. But nothing, from the information to Pesci, was of much help at the moment. He gritted his teeth. 

“Bro!”

“What!?” He finally snapped. Pesci scrunched up, looking startled.

“Uh - Sorry. It’s just, what’s that guy doing over there?” He pointed a slimy finger to a spot further up on the banks. A wooden bench was overlooking the river, likely meant to be a pleasant outlook over a once clean river but now only showed the shimmer of pollution. Empty soda cans and bits of cardboard and plastic were scattered about the banks. Sitting there, overlooking the water, was a head mostly covered by a fluffy white hat. Prosciutto couldn’t make out the features, but looking at the bodies’ shape he could see it was masculine. There wasn’t anything unusual about them otherwise.

He glared back at Pesci. “What about him?”

“Don’t they seem out of place? Could that be Pollution?” Prosciutto glanced back at the person on the bench. He still felt nothing out of place.

“Don’t be silly. Can’t you sense anything? That can’t possibly be strong enough for a Horseman!” Pesci looked down guiltily. His skin seemed to slime a bit more. “Hey.” Prosciutto tried to wipe some slime off his head. “Don’t get nervous now. It’s as good a lead as any. But There’s no way it could be them.”

Pesci perked up a little more. “Could we go by and take a look at least? Please?” Prosciutto sighed. “They just seem real suspicious is all. And if it’s not, we can push them into the water and laugh about it!”

“Fine. But it’s not them. That I’m sure of.” He could use a good laugh right now.

He stomped down the street, Pesci trailing after him eagerly. The figure didn’t seem to react to their presence, even as their feet clattered against the concrete. They just stared out over the water silently. The two demons broke from the path and walked across the grass to the bench. Prosciutto slapped a hand on the figure’s shoulder.

“Hey buddy. What are you doing out here all by yourself?” He expected them to either flinch or freeze in shock, and given the lack of a reaction, it seemed to be the latter. “Odd place for a sit down, huh? With all this filthy shit all around you.” Pesci croaked out a laugh behind him. 

He waited for them to respond, expecting to hear a satisfying note of fear in their voice, no matter how composed they were now. There was silence. “Hey.” He gripped the shoulder harder. “Speak up, bud.”

“Bro...” Pesci muttered nervously. “Do you think-”

Finally, a solemn voice came. “Not at all.”

“Huh? What was that?”

“You said this place was filthy. I think it’s quite beautiful.” They shifted their gaze upward. “It wasn’t this beautiful a few days ago. A storm came through and washed all this up here.” They gestured to the trash around them.

Prosciutto was not an idiot. This person’s cryptid ramblings spelled out pretty clearly who this was. But now his confidence turned to fear. He slowly removed his hand from the shoulder.  _ Shit. Pesci was right?! Have I screwed us over? _

The one who was probably Pollution continued to talk. “I told them. I told anyone who would listen that a storm would come and make everything beautiful again. They just laughed. ‘There’s no storm coming! Don’t you check the weather?’ But I knew, and it did.”

Pesci scrambled to shove the package into Prosciutto’s hands. He made a face at the slime that now coated it, but quietly thanked his quick action. “Uh, sorry about that earlier. No hard feelings, yeah?”

The one who was likely Pollution turned their gaze on the two demons. Finally seeing their face, their gaze looked over them blankly. He wore a raggedy blue coat that still looked somewhat warm despite its wear and tear. But in this weather it seemed impractical. The longer they looked, the more uncomfortable Prosciutto became. “A-anyway, We got something for you. Here you go.” He shoved the package out. Hopefully-at-this-point-Pollution took it. They ‘hmmed’, turning it over in a way no package marked “handle carefully” should be handled. 

They split the top of it open almost perfectly in half. Prosciutto put a hand in front of Pesci, silently warning him to keep his distance. He himself wasn’t curious about its contents as long as it was useful, but Pesci tended to stick his nose where he didn’t belong. 

It was a crown that Pollution raised out of the box. Silver, thin, and pointy. They unceremoniously threw the box to the side, taking a place amongst the trash on the banks. They took a second to observe its pristine sheen, before a black oily substance began to encroach upon it. The silver was eaten away by it, engulfing it until the crown was completely black. 

Pollution placed a hand on their fluffy white hat, frowning seemingly at the idea of having to remove it. Instead, they grasped the back of the crown and gently split it apart. They bent the sides slightly outward and placed it around their neck, the ends of the crown coming together without a sound. They now wore the black crown like a pointed necklace. 

Slowly, Pollution’s head moved towards the two demons. “Thanks.” His tone did nothing to indicate any feeling, least of all gratitude.  _ Better nothing than the alternate _ , thought Prosciutto. Pesci gulped and began to move behind him. Normally Prosciutto would snap at him not to be such a coward, but in this instance, he felt it was plenty justified. Pollution’s blank gaze raked over them before turning to look the other way, off to the horizon. “I feel them now. Best be going.” And he began to walk along the riverbanks without another word. Pesci peeked around his back to watch the Horseman go. Prosciutto could feel breath returning to his body with every step he took away from them.

Pesci looked around nervously. “T-that wasn’t even that bad! What were the others even complaining about?”

Prosciutto vividly remembered Formaggio’s burnt hand and Melone’s shriveled homunculi.  _ It could’ve been a lot worse _ . 

On the other hand, imagining the other’s faces when they told them Pollution had just taken the package and let them be without a fuss would be priceless. He gave Pesci a light jostle. “Of course it wasn’t. We learned from the other’s mistakes. You have to be respectful when dealing with unpredictable forces like this.”

The fishy demon’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean I did good?”

“You’re in one piece, aren’t you? That’s more than we can say for Formaggio.” The two demons chortled at their comrade’s misfortune, trying to ignore the lingering feeling of impending decay.

* * *

  
  


The boat ride had been long. At least twenty hours or longer, Doppio estimated. He didn’t have a watch or a phone to check. He’d spent most of his time trying to nap upright with to no avail, his nerves keeping him up. There was a bar inside that sold food and drink, but he’d spent most of his money on the ticket and barely had enough money to get back.

The voice of the Boss had grumbled in his head.  **_Just steal it if you’re so hungry._ **

Doppio had to frantically explain that there was nowhere to go on such a small ship and they’d surely catch him right away and besides that was a morally wrong thing to do. The Boss sighed in frustration.

**_Fine, fine. Remind me why I chose you all those years ago? I don’t remember you being so cowardly._ **

He’d wanted to ask what he meant but Doppio had already resigned himself to not ask questions. Better keep his head down. The less of a chance someone saw him talking to himself and thought he was a crazy person, the better.

Regardless, it was now late, probably almost midnight, and Doppio trudged off the boat and set foot on Neopolitan soil. He found a bench somewhere by the seaside and plopped down, preparing to sleep until morning. His eyes began to droop the moment he thought about it.

**_Doppio. Doppio! You can’t sleep yet, there is somewhere you have to see._ **

He groaned in protest. “What? What’s so important that it can’t wait until morning to do, huh?”

**_There’s a house you have to go to. The one who lives there is keeping tabs on the child you are to find._ **

Doppio gritted his teeth, and despite caution, felt himself snap. “Well what if I don’t want to follow your fucking orders, huh?! I’m really fucking tired here, so why don’t  _ you _ shut up and do what I say for once?!”

There was stillness. He was still fuming, but Doppio felt a prick of anxiousness. Was that too much?

**_Look, I understand mortal bodies have limits, but would you rather sleep on a bench, or in a warm house? The one you’re going to find works for me, and he will surely let you stay the night._ **

Annoyed, he reluctantly made himself stand up. “Fine,” he spat. “But after that, I’m sleeping. You can’t stop me.”

**_I never said I would_ ** , said the Boss with the tone of an adult consoling a moody teenager. He gave Doppio no directions, but he somehow knew where to go anyway.

* * *

  
  


When he found the house by the sea, his legs were about ready to give out. It was a medium sized house, probably a nice house, but he was too tired to care. He prepared himself to cross the street and knock on the door without passing out, when the door opened. He froze and pushed himself back up against the wall of the house behind them. 

**_Don’t be scared Doppio, it’s just-_ **

The Boss’s voice cut off as he saw who came out. It was a man with long, silver hair, bundled up in a thick coat. He wore sweatpants and slippers, indicating to Doppio that he had likely just woken up. He heard the Boss take in a sharp breath.  _ Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good. _

“Uh, Boss? What’s going on?”

**_Keep back Doppio! Watch him._ **

Doppio watched as the man stumbled out of the house, making his way towards a car parked on the street. The lights flashed to indicate it was being unlocked, and the man got into the driver’s seat and drove off. He sped off quickly, as if in a hurry to get somewhere. 

**_Doppio,_ ** The Boss's voice was low and deadly now.  **_I need you to knock on the door, but be cautious._ **

“Why? What’s that guy got to do with anything?”

**_Just go do it!_ **

Doppio frowned, but he was tired enough already. He dragged his feet to the door and knocked. A solid minute passed before anything happened and Doppio was just about ready to pass out in the bushes outside, when suddenly, the door opened.

A man with a black bob of hair stood in the doorway. He was upright and alert but the bags under his eyes were telling. “Can I help you?” He gave Doppio a one over and froze.

Doppio opened his mouth to respond, but what came out wasn’t his voice.  **_Buccellati. It is good to see you. I trust everything has been running smoothly?_ **

The man called Buccellati seemed frozen to the spot. “Yes.” He managed to respond. “The Antichrist is growing fast.”

_ Antichrist?!  _ Doppio thought alarmingly.

**_That’s what I’ve come here to see. But for now, this vessel cannot take much more. He will sleep here._ **

“Ah. Yes, of course you can.” He quickly ushered Doppio in. His tone was calm but his eyes were full of panic. He wondered if the Boss could tell. “I’m sorry, but is the couch okay?”

Doppio suddenly felt his voice come back to him. “T-the couch is fine.” His brain wasn’t fully processing all he’d seen and heard yet. But what matters was he was inside and he could sleep now.

Buccellati frowned at the change in voice, but didn’t comment on it. “I trust you can wait until morning?”

Doppio nearly collapsed on the couch he’d pointed at. “Yeah, all I really want to do is sleep. G’night.”

He heard Buccellati’s footsteps creak up a flight of stairs soon after, though he’d spent some time simply standing in the kitchen.  **_Be alert, Doppio_ ** .

_ Yeah, yeah.  _ Doppio had no time to listen to the Boss right now. It had been a wild, awful day and he just needed rest.

Before he slipped into sleep, the Boss hissed one last thought into his head.  **_I have reason to suspect Bruno Buccellati is a traitor._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruno voice: Haha, I'm in danger  
> Again, comments are very much appreciated.  
> In case it was unclear, Pollution is Weather Report. There wasn't really a major Jojo villain I felt fit Pollution (Sorry Kars, I feel you'd fit Pestilence better but he's Sir-Not-Appearing-in-this-Fic) so I opted for a major character connected to one. Eh, he acts kinda villainous near the end of P6 when he gets his memories back, so good enough. Sorry Florida, I know there are many lovely places there. Doppio wanting sleep is me.  
> Next time, Leone tries to be honest about his feelings, a child's power flares, and the final Horseman rides out.


	15. For Whom the Church Bells Toll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonio doesn't get paid enough for this. Neither does Risotto. Giorno surprises everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to finish this story by February, but no promises. I have gotten a burst on motivation recently so I'm trying to work off of that.

In the early hours of the morning, Leone pulled up to the curb next to a certain restaurant.

He hadn’t been here for a while. Even if Tonio had promised to keep his secret he knew Bruno was still wary of him. But sometimes, Leone would come out on his own and talk to Tonio about how the kids were doing. Whenever he tried to ask about heavenly matters though, he got unsatisfactory results.

“You’d know more than I would about that.” Tonio had admitted. “I mostly just talk with them on the phone. Haven’t been up there in quite a while I’m afraid.”

But Leone wasn’t looking for information on the status of Heaven. No, tonight he kept himself awake for the sole reason of needing to talk to someone.

His headache had been gone for a while, but he rubbed it anyway as if it might come back at any moment. 

Any sane human would be asleep at this hour. But they were no humans.

Despite that, having a physical form was an undertaking. You would eventually need to sleep, but they could go for a few nights before they really felt the negative effects. Leone wasn’t exactly sleep deprived at the moment, but he did feel a mental kind of weary. 

He crossed into the side alley and knocked on the backdoor. It was quick to creak open, revealing Tonio’s confused face, morphing into understanding at the sight of Leone. “Let me guess. Is it soon?”

“Maybe. We have no idea and no way to tell.” Tonio ushered him in from the cold, gesturing at an empty table for him to sit at.

As Leone took a seat, his fellow angel took out a notepad. “Can I get you anything to drink? A coffee to help stay awake, perhaps?”

“Yeah, sure. Not tired, but sure.” Tonio gave him a knowing look, and went into the back. Soon, Abbacchio found himself in a rather familiar situation as it was this morning. Drinking coffee in a dramatic conversation.

Tonio sat across from him, smiling pleasantly. He said nothing, waiting for him to speak. And he wanted to, but there felt like no right way to word it. He sipped the coffee, hoping it would make his mind clearer. 

It did not. Now there was energy jolting through him filling him with all sorts of anxieties. In the end he gave up trying to think and turned to Tonio. “Look. I don’t know what to say, please, just ask me anything already.”

“Alright then, if that’s what you want. Why are you here?”

Leone’s face scrunched up. “Not like  _ that _ . That’s too heavy.”

“Then how are the kids?”

He relaxed slightly. That was an easy one. “They’re good. Going to school. Narancia isn’t the best at math, but we made Fugo help him to… varying results of success.” He sighed. “That boy overreacts too much.”

“Couldn’t one of you help him?” Leone laughed.

“Me? I don’t know shit about math.” Tonio “Bruno does our taxes, and only barely.” He shrugged. “But he’s doing okay now. And they have a new friend. She’s-” he stopped. “Her name is Trish. She’s  _ his _ daughter.”

Tonio cocked his head. “But I thought that was Giorno?”   
  
“No. He has… interesting parentage for sure. But Giorno is not the Antichrist.”

“Is that why you came here? You’ve been getting it wrong this whole time?”

“Kind of. We just figured this out a few days ago. We convinced her grandparents we were good choices for babysitters. Somehow.”

Tonio laughed. “You say this to me, the one who entrusted you with three abandoned kids. And I think you’ve done a fine job.” Leone didn’t think so, but he knew it would just be refuted.

“I guess.”

“Who knows? You know no one tells me anything nowadays.” He looked surprisingly unannoyed at the fact.

“I never told them what Giorno looked like. They didn’t ask, so it wasn’t necessary. But everyone assumed it would be a boy for so long, even we didn’t think to look elsewhere.” He paused. “Well we didn’t technically know Giorno was a boy until a few years later, but still, I guess it’s our fault for presuming.”

Tonio shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself. No one knew what would happen with the Antichrist, only the rough details. It’s Heaven’s fault for assuming, if anything.”

“I guess that’s true, but...” he sighed, knowing he’d have to come clean. “That’s not really why I’m here.” He took a deep breath. “So I had a fight with Bruno. We have no idea where the Horsemen are, or how long we have, or anything.”

There was a look of understanding on his face. “Oh, I see.” He put a hand on Leone’s. “Fight’s with your partner are hard.”

“He’s not my- I mean, sure, but can you really call it that?!” Leone sputtered.

Tonio just kept giving him that knowing look. “Leone Abbacchio. You are literally married. I’m not judging, in fact I’d be in disbelief if after all this time it really was just business between you.”

He sighed, resigned to his fate of misunderstanding. “Fine, we’re fond of each other. So what? It’s clearly not enough right now!” 

Across from him, he could see Tonio’s sympathetic look. His eyes were cast downward. He couldn’t stand to be pitied right now.

“What is really bothering you, my friend?” 

He opened his mouth “I-” There was nothing he could think of that would properly express it. He sat there, gaping in confusion for a few moments. No judgement came from the other angel, much to Leone’s gratitude.

“We’re mostly in the dark right now.” He admitted. “We lost a lot of time and progress when it turned out we had the wrong child. We have no way of knowing where the Horsemen are or what they’ll do. We’ve only known Trish for a few days, definitely not long enough to know how to deal with her when the day comes.” He paused for breath.

“And it’s not my fault, I know. There’s no way we could’ve known. But… I still feel like there’s something I didn’t do right. Something I missed. That it’s my fault we’re in this mess.”

For a while, Tonio didn’t say anything. Leone didn’t look up to see what his face looked like either. He drank deeply, the scalding heat of the coffee only slightly bothering him.

“What about Bruno?” Tonio asked.

“Hm? What about him?” His head shot up to look at Tonio’s

“Do you think he feels the same?”

“I don’t know, he told me I couldn’t afford to mess around right now. And he’s right, but it just felt really accusatory.”

“Hm” went Tonio. “And how exactly have you messed up any more than him?”

He shifted back in his seat, feeling embarrassed to admit it. “I… might’ve gotten pretty drunk last night. When our house got broken into by some humans we stole a prophecy book from.”

There was a pause. “I won’t ask about that,” said Tonio. “But as I understand it, he was upset because you were drunk when he needed your help?”

He snorted “Obviously.”

“And you feel bad about this as well?”

“Of course! The kids were in there, that should’ve been enough reason not to get drunk in the first place.”

“And have you tried… talking to him?”

“...No?” Of course he hadn’t, Bruno was the one he was fighting with! He saw Tonio smiling. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head. “Forgive me, I don’t think your plight is humorous in the slightest. It’s just, I’ve known many mortals over the years. And there have been many, all with much less time than us, who had the exact same problem.”

“Stopping Armageddon?”

Tonio gave him a look. “No, talking to each other about your problems.”

Leone just stared at him. “I can’t just do that! That’s too easy! That’s not going to help us save anything.”

“Well, you also can’t save anything while you’re mad at each other. If you were human, I’d say life’s too short for it, but with what’s coming up, it still applies.” 

Leone stared into his coffee. If anyone told him, even as far as twenty years back, that another angel would be telling him to confide in a demon, he’d scowl at them for making a joke that wasn’t even funny. There was something that still puzzled him, though.

“Hey Tonio, question.” he said. “You don’t even know Bruno. And I know I vouched for him and all, and you’ve always never been one to judge, but for a  _ demon _ ? Why haven’t you told anyone? Really.”

He just laughed again. “Oh Leone, if there can be an angel as grumpy and sour as you, it’s not hard to accept there are some half decent demons down below. Besides.” He winked. “Who am I to break up a happy couple?”

“We’re not- Ugh, fine. Think whatever you want about us.” He stood up. “Thanks for the coffee, but it’s late and I don’t think it would help much if something happens again while I’m out.” He paid for the drink and began to leave, Tonio opening the door for him. 

“Remember,” He called as Leone began to get into the car. “ _ Talk _ to each other!”

“Yeah, right.” Leone called back. Like that was going to fix anything. But still, a part of him thought. It couldn’t hurt to let Bruno know he really was going to be there for him. He drove off, conflicted.

* * *

In another part of the world, one where it was still day, the demon Risotto Nero lingered outside of a church. He leaned against a tree, glowering at the door.

Going inside would not be a pleasant experience for him. He knew this from experience. Every bit of a demon that touched anything holy was overcome with a sensation of burning. Not the fiery kind, but a deep feeling of  _ wrongness  _ buzzing in his skin. Just standing outside made him scowl at the bad vibes. 

_ They told me he’d be here. Why is it taking so long? _ He could feel Death’s fog heavy in the air. And see it too. It weaved around the trees and tombstones of the small graveyard off the side of the holy building. Apparently the lucky bastard had no problem with churches.

But he waited patiently. Looking at the others, nothing good came of directly seeking out the Horsemen. He was not going to be the next demon dragging themselves back humiliated. He liked to think he had more class than that.

Figuring whatever Death was doing in there, it wasn’t going to be done for a while, Risotto closed his eyes. It wasn’t like anything could sneak up on him. No sooner than he decided to rest did he hear the crunch of footsteps on frosty grass.

_ Or he could show up now. _ Risotto was up and alert, still leaning on the tree but eyes flitting around. The fog made it hard to see, but there was definitely a dark figure moving towards the graveyard. Risotto crept in a half circle, coming around the back towards him. His footsteps made no sound, eyes focused on the figure like an animal watching his prey. Only, this was prey he couldn’t hunt, not if he valued being on this plane of existence. 

Taking a deep breath, the form of Risotto shimmered and flickered into transparency. If you looked close enough, you could tell something wasn’t right with the empty space. But with all the fog, it didn’t matter. 

One foot after the other, Risotto silently glided across the ground. He had no plans of any kind to try and startle or attack the Horseman, he wasn’t an idiot. He simply wanted to make note of his surroundings. But as he got closer and closer, the fog only got thicker, until he could no longer see Death. Frowning, Risotto drew back. This wasn’t a good sign. He looked around himself, wondering if he should temporarily melt into the shadow of the tree to hide. 

It was eerily silent. Too silent.  _ Has he left already? _ Risotto wondered. That would be annoying. He’d have to seek him out all over again. Demons didn’t get cold easily, but he could feel the chill in the air deep in his bones.  _ Ah well. Might as well go out doing my job. _

He dropped the invisibility and called out into the fog. “Death. I have something for you.” Suddenly, a dark shape began to materialize in front of him. Cloaked in hooded black robes that were almost priest-like, the only thing visible of his face was the faintest flash of white Risotto thought might’ve been bone. 

_ What have you brought me?  _ His voice echoed all around Risotto, interrupting the frozen stillness.  _ Speak, demon. _

“It-it’s not a physical gift.” He admitted, his legs shaking despite himself. He had always prided himself on being composed and uncaring, but any shame he might’ve felt otherwise was overtaken by the sheer terror that with a finger lifted from this being, he’d be nothing but specks of cosmic dust. 

“It’s a message for you.” The robes shifted around the still figure, and Risotto could see within them thousands of tiny pinpricks of light. They blinked in and out of existence faster than the mortal eye could see, and he realized with a start what they were - dying stars. Death’s robes showed the universe itself.

_ And what is it?  _ The voice was chillingly passive.

“Come and see. They are waiting.”

Death’s robes stopped moving. Then, he looked right out of his hood and into Risotto’s eyes. There was a human face there, but it seemed almost translucent, like if you looked closely enough, you could see right through to the bone. It was a brown skinned man with stark white hair, expression unreadable. He opened his mouth with a creak. 

_ You have done your duty. I thank you. I must give you a gift. Speed things up for you, perhaps. _

“That’s really not necessary-” he tried to say.

_ Isn’t that the point of gifts? They aren’t necessary. Enjoy yours. _ The deep chill Risotto felt suddenly vanished, and there was darkness.

In a moment, he was no longer in front of the church, but in front of a pay phone. He frowned. What had happened? What kind of gift was this? Looking around, it was still night. He was by the side of the road somewhere. Then, the payphone started to ring. He jumped despite himself, still on edge. No one would be calling a random payphone out in the middle of nowhere.  _ So it must be for me.  _ He picked up the payphone to answer.

The voice that answered was deep and familiar. “Who is this? Who have I ended up with?” The tone was similar to his boss, if a little different in a way he couldn’t quite think of. Regardless, this was not the time to question him. 

“This is Risotto Nero. Boss, I’m assuming?”

“Indeed. At least  _ someone’s  _ up to date.” He sounded frustrated. “You were the one sent to find Death. Have you found him yet?”

He remembered his odd experience with him and grimaced. “Yes, just now in fact. He’s set off.” 

“Good. I need someone to deal with something. Someone  _ competent. _ ”

Risotto was fairly certain he was competent. “What is it?”

“We have a traitor. Someone who could be very bothersome come Armageddon. I’m hoping you can help deal with them?”

A traitor. He wondered who would be stupid enough to defy the Boss. “Of course. Who is it?”

The name said next was both confusing and unsurprising. “Bruno Buccellati.”

  
  
  
  


Speaking of which, Bruno Buccellati happened to currently be freaking the fuck out.

Currently, a human being possessed by the Boss was sleeping  _ on his couch _ , in the house right below the kids, and he didn’t know what to do. He was frantically texting Leone who he’d heard leave the room earlier that night.  _ Damn it, right after I asked him to be present too! _ Guilt gnawed at him.  _ Maybe I was too harsh on him. _ Regardless, that didn’t change the gigantic fucking mess he currently found himself in. 

He finally tried calling, hoping no one would hear him.  _ Leone, please pick up!  _ Nothing. He must’ve turned his phone off.

Suddenly he heard the door unlock behind him. He spun around to see Leone enter the house, a look of unease on his face.

“Leone!” He ran up and seized him by the arm, dragging up upstairs.

“What are you-” Leone said.

“Shh! Just be quiet and get up here!” He shut his mouth and let Bruno drag him up into the hallway and into his room upstairs, where he locked the door. Finally turning to look at him, Leone looked perplexed. There was no use trying to sugarcoat anything. “We’re fucked.” he said.

“Okay, so nothing new. What’s going on exactly?”

He put his hands on Leone’s shoulders, showing him he was serious. “There’s a human downstairs sleeping on the couch. He’s a vessel for my boss. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you who that is.”

“Oh.” The dread began to set in on Leone’s face. “Shit.”

“Leone.” He clutched his shoulders tighter. “I need you to make me holy water.”

“What?!” 

Bruno shook his head at the distressed look on Leone’s face. “For self defense! I’m not asking for a suicide pill or anything.”

The look of shock on his face didn’t waver. “Still, that’ll take too long. It’ll take half a day if I rush, and even then I’m out of practice.”

Bruno’s eyes widened, “Please.” His voice was desperate. “If that’s what it takes, we can’t let him hurt the kids.”

Leone took a shaky breath. His eyes traveled over to the door, where he could see the hallway. Bruno could see his thought process written on his face. “Fine. But we need a more immediate plan of action than that. And you can’t ever go near it unless absolutely necessary.” 

“What plan?” They froze at the new voice. Standing in the hallway, having made no noise to get there, was Giorno. His eyes were fully awake, with no telltale sign of recently having woken up. Bruno let go of Leone’s shoulders and turned to face the child.

“Giorno, why are you awake?”

“I heard the door and then you talking.” He said it with a pure honesty. 

“Is Narancia awake?” He didn’t want to deal with more than one curious kid right now.

“No. He’s not a really heavy sleeper but I’m a good sneaker.” Pride flashed in Giorno’s eyes. “Are you guys arguing again?”

Bruno could sense Leone becoming distressed behind him. He tried to smile reassuringly, but Giorno looked thoroughly unswayed. There was a droopy frown on his round face which would’ve been cute if the king of hell wasn’t downstairs at this moment. 

“No, don’t worry. We’re having a very important conversation right now. Nothing to do with you or the others, so you don’t have to worry.”

Giorno frowned. “But what is it? Can I help? I want to help”

Bruno smiled and ruffled Giorno’s hair. “Thanks, but we’ve got this.”

A loud knock sounded downstairs. It was heavy and loud and clearly indicated that they, in fact, did not have this.

He looked back to Leone. “Stay with Giorno. Don’t come downstairs.” And he bolted out of the room without another word. 

Another knock came, even louder than before, as Bruno leapt down the stairs. He barely registered Doppio blearily falling off the sofa, twisted up in his blanket. Not wanting his door to be knocked down Bruno unlocked and opened the door himself.

Outside stood a hulking Risotto Nero, forehead almost scraping the head jamb. His eyes were red and coldly furious. “Bruno.” He almost spat the name. “I knew there was something going on with you, but I never took you for a traitor. And making me work overtime. How dare you.”

Doppio yawned behind them. The voice that came out was not his own. “Watch it Risotto, I’m the one who called you here.” 

Risotto squinted. “Boss? Is that really you?”

“You’re questioning me?” Diavolo’s voice snarled.

“No, not at all.” He said quickly. Bruno could tell what he was thinking.  _ What a pathetic form. _ He felt bad for the human, but he’d have to agree. Doppio was not a terribly coordinated human. He exchanged a mutual look with Risotto before the glaring started again.

“Anyway. Bruno Buccellati! For your betrayal, I must take you in to be tried and judged.”

Bruno stood his ground. Even with Risotto and Boss on either side of the room, backing up would be a weakness. “It’s funny, you seem all well and good with rebellion and chaos until someone does it to you.”

“Shut your traitorous mouth!” The boss’s voice snapped. Looking over, the human’s normally brown eyes were a sinister green he knew well.

Deciding to go all the way with the blasphemy, he silently prayed.  _ Leone I know I said stay upstairs, but please pull something out your ass right now! _

“I told you Bruno,” Risotto rounded on him. “I didn’t want to see you like this, but you chose your fate.”

“Get away from him!” Bruno turned to see his worst fear. A very angry but underwhelming looking Giorno at the bottom of that stairs. He was puffed up like an angry kitten.  _ Shit.  _ Leone appeared behind him, and froze at the two demons in the room.  _ Not what I meant when I asked for help Leone! _

Risotto barked a laugh. “And who’s this. Have you gone soft, Bruno?” Giorno crossed his arms and glared.

“You’re in our house, but Bruno and Leone don’t want you here. So leave.”

Leone’s face was petrified at the mention of his name. Risotto glanced over to see the angel. “Is that why you’ve betrayed us? Consorting with the enemy?”

“Exactly.” The boss grimaced. “He was supposed to be watching my child, and instead he colludes with an agent of Heaven.”

Bruno moved himself in front of Giorno instinctively. “Do whatever you want with me. Don’t touch him.” He didn’t know what they would do if they found out who Giorno’s real dad was.

“You need to leave.” Giorno said again from behind him.

The jester demon laughed. “Or what?”

Giorno stepped in front of him. “Don’t-!” But a hand was placed on his shoulder. Leone.

“Bruno, look. I think he’s got this, actually.” Baffled, Bruno watched as the floorboards of his house began to shift and push upwards. A cracking sound echoed throughout as roots burst from the floor and wrapped around Risotto and the boss’s legs. The human squawked in a voice that seemed more his own. Risotto grunted in surprise but wasn’t too disturbed. 

“That’s all?” He tried to step forward and shake the roots off, but they held tight. He pulled more, but the only thing it did was make the roots tighten. 

The human thrashed around in panic. Bruno could see his eyes were no longer green. “What is this? Help!” He shrieked and yanked but he was clearly only making it worse for himself. “Boss? Where’d you go? Boss!”

Bruno felt a stab of pity. “If he lets you go, you leave and don’t come back.” He didn’t feel bad enough to let him stay with the possibility of the Boss in his mind still.

“Anything! Just get them off!” Doppio wailed. The roots drooped down, leaving him to bolt out the moment he was free. Risotto scoffed as he left. 

“Coward.” He didn’t seem deterred yet and turned to glare at Giorno. “What’s your deal? You can’t be human.”

Giorno stuck his chin up in defiance. “Does it matter what I am? You need to leave.”

The demon’s eyes narrowed. “And what if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll make you.” A golden pulse rippled under the ground, through the roots, and up to Risotto. He froze and stiffened up, his joints locked in place. There was a flicker of fear in his eyes and he faced the angry child.

“Tch. Fine.” A gaping portal opened up to him, devoid of anything tangible to this plane. He jerked his body enough to reach inside and pulled himself. “Watch yourself, Bruno. I’m not the last they’ll send.” And he materialized into the portal, closing behind him.

Bruno and Leone stared at Giorno, who looked up at them in excitement. “I got rid of them!” He said excitedly.

Bruno looked at his floorboards, now ruined. “Could’ve been a little neater.”

“Oh sorry. I’ll take care of it.” There was another golden light and the roots shrunk back down into the ground, forming the floorboards as they were before.

Bruno gaped at the display. Giorno had power after all.  _ Maybe all hope isn’t lost.  _ He thought.  _ But on the other hand… fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Risotto: Bro ur a traitor? That's pretty cringe bro.
> 
> Also Death is Pucci. Just so we're clear.
> 
> Y'all know the deal. Comments good.  
>  Up Next: The four gather, Hell is having a big confuse, Kakyoin does crime.


End file.
